American Invasion
by bekkers29
Summary: HP World of Darkness. Goes AU during OotP, spoilers for all books. When a new threat looms over the wizarding world, Dumbledore recruits a new teacher. To some, she could be a hero, to others, an object of deepest fear. Can one person make a difference?
1. A Little Favor

Rachel Ayanami was feeling a bit put out. Apparently, her dear baby sister Leah had decided that the Mendocino Poly-Magical Institute was completely unworthy. Of course Darcy, the second youngest girl, had been saying the same thing every year, but Rachel was fairly certain that her complaints were regarding the 'truly hideous school uniforms', and the 'profoundly stupid name', rather than substandard curriculum, which was undoubtedly Leah's complaint. Well, the kid should know something about curriculum, given the fact that she'd just graduated from Beverly Hills High School. Not that it was abnormal for witches and wizards to attend grammar school until they were eleven, but Leah was determined to _finish_ both her magical and non-magical education. And besides, she couldn't _stand_ to be bored.

None of this was particularly surprising to Rachel, who was home visiting her family for her twenty-first birthday. No, the surprise was something else…well, more than one something else, actually. One, her parents were actually giving in to Leah's demand to attend a different school. They'd never given in to Darcy's, and she would be starting her fifth year at the dreaded institution in the fall. Two…

"So, why don't you just owl the schools? Or have floo conversations with the Headmasters? How did I get the short straw?"

Madeline Ayanami crossed her arms as her eyes narrowed. Rachel had a terrible feeling that she should have worded that differently. Her only hope was that it might not be too late for damage control. "Mom, I…"

"I do not wish to hear it, young lady," Mrs. Ayanami replied crisply.

All hope of damage control lost, Rachel resigned herself to the oncoming guilt trip.

"I do know what your life is like, Rachel. I know quite well, from the appalling lack of visits, that you are a very busy woman. Sometimes, in fact, I wonder why you bother to keep an apartment. And, regardless of what you may believe, I did not plan on celebrating your birthday by asking you for a favor, but this is very important to me. Todd was going to go, but he finally got that promotion and can't take any time off work."

Great, here we go again, Rachel thought. Big brother got a promotion in the Department of Magical Affairs; what a little trooper. Rachel could not help but wallow, just for a moment, in self pity, think that if only she'd been born a witch instead of Garou, her mother might actually have a clue about what her life was like. Maybe then she'd get sympathy and compassion, rather than the guilt and nagging.

_What am I_, she griped inwardly, _but the youngest Athro in a hundred years_? Her mother probably didn't even know that that meant she was already nearly an Elder, the highest rank of her people, at twenty-one years of age. And she undoubtedly had no idea that she'd had already seen more people fall in battle than she had friends in school before her little 'accident', and she'd been _popular_. But there was no point thinking about that at the moment. It was exhausting enough simply to try and pay at least a little attention to what her mother was yammering on about.

"…sending my children off to a school far away from home, I'd like to know more about the school than one can learn from a letter or, as you put it, from floo conversations with the Headmasters. I need to be home with Leah and Darcy. Darcy is quite upset that I never granted her wish to attend a different school, but have 'given in at the prodigy's first complaint', in your sister's words. And don't look at me like that. If Darcy had ever given me a decent reason for a transfer, I'd have listened. What sort of excuse is 'the name is stupid', or 'look at this hideous uniform'? Leah's complaint had merit."

Mrs. Ayanami paused, and her jade eyes met Rachel's weary hazel ones. "Honey, the list of schools is not long. And don't think I've forgotten what you mentioned about your pack. You said that the others have grown weary of the life you lead, and that they want to settle down and have families. And I know where they're coming from. You push yourself far too hard; you always have. And you think I don't notice, baby, but I do. If you keep pushing yourself the way you do, you're what, a year or two away from Elder status? Try not to look so surprised, dear. It doesn't set well on your face."

Rachel couldn't help but wonder when her mother had begun to pay attention. "Mom, I… You're right, I suppose, I probably push myself, and those around me, harder than I should. But we're fighting a war here, us against the darkness. And, at the moment, the darkness is _winning_. How can I take a break from it and still respect myself? I have _responsibilities_."

Rachel turned away from her mother's concerned gaze. When did this become about her, she wondered. Her mother was right, of course. Her pack really _was_ falling to pieces. They were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and wanted to stay in one place and put down roots. Evil, unfortunately, did not stay in one place, and her pack had become, more or less, a consulting firm. They could go into any Sept and, using their various talents, identify the strengths and weaknesses of the group. Garou wouldn't always accept their findings, often did not want to take their advice, but those who did always saw an increase in efficiency and morale as well as a drop in casualties.

It wasn't all they did, of course. They were also particularly renowned for Umbral quests, but with Owl as their totem, that was more or less to be expected. Why would he gift his Children with Umbral wings if he didn't expect them to be used? And though Garou around them seemed to drop like flies, she had yet to lose a packmate.

Secretly, Rachel thought the only thing that could improve things even more would be the addition of a wizard into the mix, but they were, well, maybe _hated_ was too strong a word, but definitely not trusted by Garou. She might be able to get away with having one in her pack, but it would cost her _and_ her pack a great deal of trust and respect from their people.

And wizards, as a rule, did not even know the Garou existed. Well, wizards knew of beings that they _called_ werewolves, unfortunate souls who were infected by a wyrm-toxin. Well, it was a _little_ more complicated than that, but that was neither here nor there. At any rate, it was easy enough to reverse…well, easy enough if said unfortunate soul could survive the process anyway. Probably the only wizards who knew of the existence of the Garou were those who had a little Garou blood running through their veins. After all, both Rachel's parents were wizards, as were her brother and two sisters. The only known non-wizards in her entire family bloodline, according to her father, were Garou. Hattori Ayanami was quite proud of this, but sometimes she wondered if the same were true of her mother.

Her mother, after all, came from a long line of witches and wizards with virtually no non-magical folk of any kind. If she did go through with this favor for her mom, she thought, maybe she could start with that British one, Hog-something. If she remembered correctly, her mother had some family over there. Rachel turned around. Her mother was sitting on the couch, apparently studying the floor, her shining auburn hair covering most of her face.

"Mom, don't we have family over in England somewhere?"

Mrs. Ayanami raised her rather confused gaze to meet Rachel's. "Yes, my cousin Arthur and his family live there. Why?" Her countenance brightened as Rachel's meaning became apparent.

"I'm not saying I'll go. You know quite well that I have responsibilities here." Rachel held up a hand as her mother's mouth opened to argue. "I'm also not saying that I won't go. But if I do, I wouldn't mind starting somewhere that we have family. It really isn't like I'm not allowed to take a break, and anyway, I'm sure there's evil over in England too. I suppose I could look into fighting that." Good lord, she asked herself, was she talking _herself _into going now? After putting it that way, she knew she may as well go ahead and say yes.

She went to the window and looked outside. Looking out at the immaculate grounds, she felt a pang of regret. She really did miss the place when she was away. She missed the neighbors that had no idea wizards were living in Bel Air, California, not to mention the really great Thai food. Mostly, though, she missed her own apartment in Long Beach. On quiet nights, she could just hear the ocean.

Rachel heaved a sigh and plowed ahead. "Look, Mom, I'm prepared to do this for you, but if, say, the first school I look into proves excellent, would you still want me to investigate the others?"

The smug expression that crept onto her mother's face really was quite intolerable, but Rachel fought down the urge to smack it off.

"Though I would prefer a wide range of choices, I believe I could accept those terms. Hogwarts, I take it, will be your first destination?"

What could it hurt to go? She really could use a vacation of some kind. And Aton, Pascale, and John would probably turn cartwheels the moment she told them that vacation time was approved all round. Rachel sighed, "Sure Mom. Hogwarts will be my first destination."

A/N: I hate notes at the beginning of chapters, so don't expect them. Harry Potter belongs to the fantabulous JK Rowling, and I, sadly am not her. The Garou belong to White Wolf publishing. I own only my original characters and my idea, so don't sue me. If you are interested in the story, but have any questions about what the Garou are, or 'what is this World of Darkness of which I speak,' just shoot me an email, I'll be happy to explain.


	2. Family and Reflection

They'd been ecstatic, of course.

Aton already had plans. He was looking forward to spending some time with his wife, who to her credit hadn't left him though he'd barely seen her in three years, and getting to know his son, who as Aton reminded her, had just turned four. Okay, so Rachel felt profoundly guilty about that one. She'd completely forgotten he even _had_ a son. Maybe he'd just been tight-lipped about it…his tribe wasn't called the _Silent _Striders for nothing. He didn't mention it, but Rachel figured he was also planning on spending a good deal of time communing with the spirits; she doubted a Theurge could go long without it.

John had actually shown up at the house to thank Rachel's mother personally. Suck-up…weird Ahroun, too. He was the only jovial, relaxed uber-warrior ball-of-Rage she'd ever met. It was always creepy, but she figured it had something to do with all the 'awakened' pot those Children of Gaia always seemed to be smokin'.

But Pascale had wanted to talk about it for hours…about guys with cute accents, seeing the sights, guys with cute accents, bringing back souvenirs (Pascale was hoping for something in the tall, dark, sexy, and with a cute – Irish if possible – accent category), drinking a few pints of Guinness in her honor, and remembering to play plenty of pranks in homage to her. About an hour into the conversation, Rachel thought a mute Ragabash would be a wonderful thing. But she knew better than to hang up the phone…she'd done that only once. She didn't even _want _to think about the 'harmless prank' that happened a week later. She never did get all that paint out of her jacket. And sure, Garou were quick healers, but taking a surprise paintball to the gut still stung. Then there was the near-frozen water balloon volley…and a week later there was the shrink-wrap that Pascale had _somehow _managed to encase her car in. Not all around the outside, actually, she'd somehow gotten it around the car but _inside _the doors, so Rachel would bounce off when she tried to get in. What _exactly_, she wondered, _was_ the purpose of the tricksters? Oh yeah, she reminded herself, they were there to be a pain in her _ass_. Grrr…

It was about an hour and a half later that the fairly one-sided conversation started to draw to a close, when Pascale suddenly screamed into the phone. "OH MY GOD!"

Rachel pulled the phone away from her ear, wincing in pain, then brought the phone to her undamaged ear. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Pascale made an irritated noise. "I almost forgot to ask what you were going to pack is what!"

Mutes could be so much fun…she was _certain_ of it. "You tried to take my head off to ask about my luggage?" Rachel almost added, 'are you insane', but she _really_ didn't want to know the answer to that particular question.

"Hey, curious is all. Have to hear what you're taking along or I can't tell you what you're forgetting."

Well, that would actually be useful information, if it were coming from just about anyone else…someone who, for example, wouldn't get upset with her for not bringing silly string. No use avoiding the question, though. "You know, the usual…my laptop, a bunch of CDs, a camera, clothes, oh, and toiletries of course. I'm not taking my cell, by the way; it won't work there. I'll buy a new one in the airport and call with the number."

Rachel swore she could _hear_ Pascale shaking her head at her. "You know, you Glass Walkers crack me up. I don't know if I've _ever_ seen you more than six inches away from that laptop, even when we're in a fight. I mean I once heard you compare that one fight with the ginormous pack of Spirals to hacking the Pentagon in five minutes or less. I think you should leave it behind. That way you just might actually discover this thing called _life_."

"Hey, my laptop is not to blame for my life…or lack thereof, according to some people. And besides, that was a truly righteous hack, and you know it. You may well be more at home in an Irish bar, but I know you know your way around a computer. Anyway, I can't leave the laptop behind. I need to take notes for my mother, and I do _not_ handwrite _anything_." In all fairness, Rachel did think that comparing hacking the Pentagon to her pack taking down a pack of eight Black Spiral Dancers without serious injury was a bit on the stupid side, but how _else_ did one explain what sort of accomplishment that hack was to some Uktena mystic who didn't know a mother board from a cutting board? "Any other suggestions?"

"Well…I should just forget to mention it, seeing as how you're ignoring my advice, but I'd recommend an umbrella. Just think how disappointed your darling laptop would be if it got rained on. It might not speak to you for a month. And by the way, I still say that it was a stupid idea to awaken a laptop in the first place. Computers are already screwy enough. But you had to have one that could _actually_ crash on purpose just to piss you off."

Well now, that was just untrue. Robert – no, she did not name her computer, it simply introduced itself to her as Robert when she awakened the spirit – only crashed if she, or anyone else, called him Bob…and Pascale had made a habit of saying 'Hi, Bob' every time she walked by. So, technically it was Pascale who was crashing the computer to piss her off, but Rachel figured Pascale already knew that pretty darn well. The pack really _could_ use a mute.

"Thanks Pascale, I'll remember to take an umbrella. Can I let you go? This has been a very long day and all I want is to do a little Tai Chi and then pass out."

"Sure, Raych, I'll talk to you later. Just keep in touch with us while you're gone or we're liable to start worryin' about you."

Rachel wondered if _she_ should worry, as that had actually sounded sincere. "Oh, don't worry about that. I'll call at least once a week. I give you full permission to worry if you guys don't hear from me at least that often, okay?"

"Works for me. Good night, hon, and you take care of yourself over there. And don't forget to bring me back a hottie. I need to convince the parental units that I'm making an effort to keep the Celtic blood runnin' strong in the family, you know. And remember I prefer Irish, but I'll settle for hot with a sexy accent."

"Good night Pascale, and I'll do what I can about bringing you back a living, breathing sex toy, all right?" And she said Glass Walkers were weird. Perhaps the GWs had a little too much fondness for human technology, but there were worse vices. The Fianna, for example, could be truly disturbing. The Celtic tribe's reputation for hedonism was well earned.

"Fair enough, sweetie. Bye now!"

"Bye." Silence, Rachel thought, was a truly glorious thing.

* * *

The fireworks were breathtaking this year, Rachel mused.. And the roof of her parents' house was a great vantage point. Okay, so she couldn't see the low ones, but from the top of the house Rachel's sisters couldn't ask her any more questions or remind her what questions they wanted her to ask. That afternoon, she'd told them to 'make a goddamn list and shut the fuck up'. Well, technically she'd screamed it…right in the middle of her dad's big Fourth of July barbeque…in front of most everyone they knew. So her mother had suggested that maybe Rachel would have a better time tonight watching the fireworks on the roof. Stupid Rage…could she really help it that part of her was a wild creature? Her mother did seem to forget pretty easily that Rachel wasn't exactly a normal human girl. And besides, Rachel was pretty sure than even a perfectly normal human girl would have eventually snapped, the way the little twerps kept nagging her. 

But the roof was quiet, and Rachel used the time to go through her mental checklist. She was packed, and was getting more than a little antsy. In twelve hours, she'd be at LAX. In fifteen hours, she'd be in the air. Ten and a half hours later, she'd be at Heathrow airport. Her mother had gotten a couple of owls in the past few days. Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts had agreed to meet with her at the school on July eighth at teatime, more commonly known as four p.m. by the not_-_British. There had also been an owl confirming that Mom's cousin Arthur and some of his kids would meet Rachel at the airport. _Some_ of his seven children – seven! And she thought having three siblings was bad; which brought her back to why she was stuck on the roof.

Her mother really had been quite upset about the screaming and the cussing. '_One of the few days your brother has off from work, and can spend with his family and friends_,' her mother had scolded. One of the few days, my ass, Rachel thought. It really wasn't like Todd _had_ to ask for overtime every single time it was approved. Todd, of course, was quite proud of his work ethic – Japanese tradition, working hard you know, Dad's quite proud I keep the old traditions alive, blah, blah, blah…

Rachel often thought to herself while he was going on, and on, and _on_, that she worked hard too; she just didn't bore people to tears about it. And her father, while certainly Japanese, didn't really have a better or worse work ethic than most other American men in his age bracket. But Rachel figured that Todd felt the need to bring it up over and over again because you'd never have realized he was half Japanese if he hadn't brought it up himself. Well, you could see it a little bit around the eyes, but that was it. Other than that, he was a fairly nondescript sort of guy: dark brown hair, light brown eyes, about 5-foot-ten. As for the rest of her family…

Darcy, like Todd, barely looked Japanese, but she was anything but nondescript. She had very straight, silky hair, which she bleached, and eyes that were usually hazel, but often changed color with her clothing. Though she was only fifteen, if Rachel hadn't known her, she'd have guessed that Darcy was seventeen or eighteen. She was five and a half feet tall, had flawless sun-bronzed skin, a willowy figure, and she was poised and graceful. It was no wonder boys were already practically beating the door down. Darcy would break hearts, and laugh in cold-hearted glee while she did it. Outwards, Darcy was one continuous blonde moment, but Rachel could see the planning behind the act. No one ever took Darcy seriously, and Darcy knew it, and used it. Rachel didn't know exactly _what _she used it for, but she knew the wicked smile and the gleam Darcy would get in her eye when she had gotten away with something. Rachel honestly wasn't sure she ever wanted to know what it was that Darcy was up to.

Leah was the opposite of the others. Not only was she soft-spoken and unassuming, she also seemed to have taken her appearance entirely from their father's side of the family. She was a bit small for her age, had jet-black hair, and dark brown almond-shaped eyes. She was also brilliant. Her IQ was probably off the charts. She had, after all, finished high school before her eleventh birthday, which was about a month away. Rachel was sad to think she might well miss another of Leah's birthdays this year. She was the only one of her siblings that reminded Rachel in any way of herself.

After all, she had the same jet-black hair and almond-shaped eyes, though hers were hazel rather than brown. Rachel had always thought that she was the only child that really looked like a product of _both _parents. She was just about a perfect mix. She had her mother's curvy figure, though it was harder than her mom's from years of hard exercise, her father's hair and bone structure, her mother's nose, and a mixture of their eyes. Like her sister, she was very bright. She didn't graduate from high school ahead of her peers like Leah, though. She'd skipped a couple of grades, but knew from the time she was very young that she wasn't a witch, so she hadn't set a goal of finishing school by her eleventh birthday like Leah had. Then during the summer between her Junior and Senior years of high school, she'd had her 'accident'.

Her first change had been traumatizing and bloody, but she'd yet to find anyone whose first change _wasn't_. At any rate, she'd become a part of Garou society after it happened. A distant relation had shown up at the house and explained what she was. She spent a year away from her family, learning about her people, about herself, about auspices – how a young Garou's path was partially dependent on what phase of moon she was born under. She was born a Philodox, the half-moon. As a Philodox (or as the second child in the family, in her opinion), she was meant to be a mediator and the enforcer of the rules. That was why most pack alphas were Philodox – they were well suited for leadership roles. Sometimes Rachel really hated it, but it did feel like her purpose. And she was good at it, which was just a bonus. After that year, despite advise to the contrary, Rachel had chosen to go back home and finish school. There, she learned why the Garou stayed out of human society. The Rage, the Beast within, made regular people nervous. A lot of her friends had graduated, and the ones who were still there were wary of her. She heard them whisper to each other about her 'accident' and how she was 'really weird now'. Her senior year had been painfully lonely. She'd made one friend that year, though, fell for him really hard in fact, and then a few weeks before graduation he was in an accident…a real one. Some bastard didn't see him on his motorcycle. He was dead before the paramedics arrived on the scene.

After that, she threw herself and her pack into the fight and never looked back. She'd been all over the world, and had barely noticed any of it. Maybe this trip would give her the chance to actually see that world; discover that thing called life, like Pascale suggested. As the last of the fireworks died in the summer sky, Rachel looked forward to her trip for the first time.


	3. American Woman

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking…"

Blah, blah, blah… She could recite _this_ particular spiel from memory in several different languages, Rachel mused as she donned her headphones and opened her dog-eared copy of Lord of the Rings, prepared for ten and a half hours of confinement in a big metal tube… Thank _God_, she thought, for Tolkien and The Cure…

About half way through The Two Towers, Rachel checked her watch. She was getting hungry, but knew better than to eat airline food…definitely of the Wyrm. It was four a.m., British time, so she only had to make it through another few hours. Rachel's gaze fell upon her book and she noticed a few pieces of paper stuck in at the end. She pulled them out and unfolded them, stifling a laugh as she read the title on the first page: "A Goddamn List." _That _was cute, and actually quite thoughtful, Rachel realized as she skimmed through the first page. She was sure there was a list of questions later, but so far the list consisted of advice like, '_take time to see the sights, especially in London_,' '_dress warmly_,' and '_spend some time in the sunlight, you could use a bit of color_.' Okay, silly advice, that. Pascale had been to England once when she was a kid and swore up and down that British sunlight actually sucked the pigment _**out** _of your skin.

Rachel kept reading. On page two, the list of questions to ask the Headmaster began. She realized, stunned, that it was actually a _full_ two pages of questions. Leah really must be stopped, she thought. But that wasn't all, the first line on the second page of questions was: _Please speak to each teacher, if possible, and ask about the required book list, extra credit possibilities, and their grading system._ And the rest of the page was a list of subject-specific questions to ask regarding the curriculum.

Rachel shook her head and put the list away. She figured she could just tell Leah that she'd assumed that the last page had been a joke. In all fairness, the idea that she'd ask all these people a long list of questions during their summer vacation really was something of a joke. She doubted they were even _at _the school during the summer, except for the Headmaster of course, and he was probably only there because of the freaky American chick he had a meeting with. Feeling a bit tired, she decided to nap for the rest of the flight. Stowing her book and laptop, she closed her eyes and slowly drifted off.

* * *

The plane had already begun its descent when Rachel woke up, feeling not quite refreshed, but rested enough to last the day. Jet lag, she'd found, was easier to deal with if you just pretended it wasn't there. She figured she'd have to do some damage control when they landed – her hair was probably a bit scary, and she should reapply her makeup. Customs always went more quickly, in Rachel's experience, if you looked your best and made sure to get the young guy… She stretched a little in her seat and prayed for a quick and smooth landing as she glanced out the window.

* * *

Ron Weasley was irritated _and_ sleepy. Honestly, it was the summer hols. Why then was he at Heathrow Airport, this early in the morning, waiting for some distant cousin to show up? Dad had said that 'Rachel' wasn't a witch, so she'd be flying in to visit, and was also going to check out Hogwarts for her younger sisters, as they didn't like the American school they were supposed to attend. Must be mental if they were thinking about coming to Hogwarts, what with recent events and all, not that the Ministry was admitting what was going on. 

Well, _now_ he was awake, he thought. He'd had been trying to keep his mind off what had happened, but the memories kept flooding back when he least expected them to. He missed Harry and Hermione; it was somehow easier to deal with everything that had happened when they were all together. Alone, he kept drifting back to what Malfoy had said before he'd been hit by multiple hexes…that he and Hermione would be the first to go. Honestly, they'd known Malfoy was an evil little bastard, but that was just… Ron sighed, and tried to take his mind off of it. All in all, he hoped their cousin would get there soon. His dad had a picture of her, and Ron thought he'd probably showed it round, but he hadn't been paying attention, so he just kept an eye out for red hair, assuming it was a safe bet. And he wondered if Dad would ask the poor girl a hundred muggle-related questions before they even got to the car.

A seemingly endless stream of muggles flowed past. The only red hair Ron had seen so far had been disturbingly unnatural, and hadn't been attached to girls. They'd been there for more than a half hour, so where the… Ron's higher brain functions shut down completely as a goddess came into view. Ooooooh…curvy… She was an amazing mix of light and dark, dressed all in black – boots, knit trousers that clung to shapely legs, and a scoop-neck top that showed a hint of cleavage. Ron wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes managed to drag themselves upward toward her face, which kept getting closer…full lips, a small, perfect nose, delicate cheekbones, large brown, no…maybe hazel…eyes surrounded by long eyelashes, shapely eyebrows and shiny black hair. It was very short in the back, but got longer toward the front, following the line of her jaw and framing her alabaster face. She looked like she hadn't seen the sun in years, or it could simply have been the contrast of her skin against her hair and clothes and the dark burgundy of her lipstick.

Ron was about check and see if Fred and George had also noticed her when his father's voice called out, "Rachel!"

Ron's eyes bugged out. Bugger! She was walking directly toward them, smiling like she had recognized…bugger. The snickering brought him back to reality, and he turned round to see Fred trying to keep a straight face. "What's funny?"

Fred gave him a knowing look and whispered low enough so their dad wouldn't hear, "Didn't look at the picture, did you…"

"…you bloody great pervert…leering at our cousin that way," George continued, looking scandalized.

"Completely disgusting, that is," Fred finished.

Ron's ears turned pink and he opened his mouth to retort, but Fred and George had turned back toward Rachel, who had just reached them…

* * *

Rachel's mouth twitched as she saw the look on the youngest kid's – Ron, was it? – face as he realized she was his cousin, as well as the looks on his older brothers' faces who obviously knew who she was. She'd bet money there had been a bit of a conspiracy to embarrass the poor boy. Oh yeah, they'd whispered something to him that made his hands clench and his face turn colors. She'd have to try to put him at ease quickly, and it was good to know early on that she'd need to look out for those two…what were their names again? Well, the names would come to her, hopefully soon, as she'd just reached them. 

"Hi, Mr. Weasley. Thanks for coming to meet me," Rachel said as she offered her hand.

"That's just Arthur, now. You're family, there's no need for formalities. It's smashing to finally meet you, Rachel. We were quite excited when we got your mum's owl. Haven't seen her since you were about three years old. Now, this is Fred, George, and Ron. And they'd be happy to help you with your luggage."

Rachel almost laughed. Arthur seemed quite friendly and easy-going. If the whole family was this amiable, she'd no doubt have a very pleasant stay. But she was perfectly capable of schlepping her own suitcases around. "Thanks, but that's not really necessary…"

But before she could stop him, one of the twins snagged the trolley away, and the other one held out his hand. "Hullo, I'm George. That's Fred."

_Twit_, she thought. Three years spent in a pack with Pascale had made Rachel very difficult to fool. Well, that and the Philodox gift of sensing lies. She shook his hand and smiled. "Hi Fred. Pleasure." Good, she thought, the kid looked impressed, and the younger boy, Ron, had a wide grin on his face. This was _definitely_ going to go well.

* * *

Ron was very surprised. He couldn't help but wonder how she had done that. Even Mum still fell for that one sometimes, after all, but Rachel had just stuck her hand out and said 'Hi Fred.' It was just _brilliant_. And if she'd noticed that he'd been staring at her, Rachel had played it very cool. There was just no word for how relieved he felt about that. 

And she was pretty cool, for a girl. For one thing, she didn't mind them talking about Quidditch, and even seemed pretty knowledgeable about it, though she said she didn't have time to go to matches. But she tried to follow an American team, the Fitchburg Finches, and a Japanese team, the Toyohashi Tengu. While he'd heard of both teams, Ron didn't really know anything about either of them, but he'd heard something odd about Japanese teams in general and asked if she knew if it was really true that they set their brooms on fire when they lost. Apparently it was, and she'd agreed with them that it was a waste of good broomsticks.

But something was odd. When Ron tried to ask her what kind of job she had, his Dad had cut him off and asked her a question about muggles. Then it got weirder…

"Muggles?" Rachel asked. The word sounded familiar, like she'd heard it before, but she couldn't remember where.

"Muggles, you know, you must know…non-magic folk," Arthur answered, a confused look on his face.

"Oh, yeah, I've heard them referred to as muggles before, but not for years," Rachel said. She looked like she was trying to remember something. "I remember now. There was a big stink about it being offensive, or something, to call non-magical people a word they hadn't chosen themselves. Idiotic, really. What are you supposed to do, walk up to them and ask what they'd like wizards to call them? Anyway, Magical Affairs knew they couldn't do that, and people were clamoring about prejudice and bigotry toward our non-magical brethren… Actually, a number of people, as I recall, wanted them called that: 'our non-magical brethren.' Can you imagine how long that would take to say?"

By this time, they'd gotten to the car. Ron had totally forgotten that his father had changed the subject, as this was just making his head spin. Prejudice against muggles by calling them muggles? Americans really _were _crackers.

"Anyway, first the Bureau came up with a proposal to call them 'mundanes,' since 'mundane' is pretty much an antonym for 'magical', but that still pissed people off. They said it implied than non-magical people were boring or something. I forget how long it went on, but finally they decided to call them non-magics and everyone was happy. Well, except for those who are simply uncomfortable with the idea of labeling people anyway. But they're always pissed. So, what did you want to know again?"

The Weasleys were all looking at her, dumbfounded. Arthur finally spoke up. "Umm, later, yes, later. Let's get the car loaded up now and get going."

* * *

That was priceless, Rachel thought. They'd looked shocked, to say the least. Well, Americans are a wacky bunch, she mused as she got into the car. But what _did _he want to know, she wondered. Surely non-magics, or muggles, or whatever weren't much different back home than they were in Britain. But then Rachel remembered; her mother had warned her that in Britain, the magical was almost completely separated from the mundane. That had seemed weird to her. Wizard and mundane cultures were pretty well integrated back home. For example, her parents and most of their friends had telephones, computers, TVs, VCRs, etc., along with all their wizarding conveniences. Rachel had a feeling that the Weasleys didn't have electricity and was suddenly glad that, because it was awakened, her laptop didn't require an outside power source. She just hoped she'd be able to find a place to charge her new mobile phone. If all else failed, though, she could leave it off and turn it on only when she needed to make a call. 

Eventually the shocked silence wore off and they all started asking Rachel questions about the United States. They were quite shocked to learn about the integration of wizard and 'muggle' culture. At one point, when the boys were discussing something among themselves, Rachel asked Arthur if his children knew anything about _her_ culture and people. Arthur told her quietly that he hadn't yet had the opportunity to talk to them about it, but that he would speak to them soon. She needn't worry about it, yadda, yadda, yadda. Kind of a relief, really, when she thought about it. Not only did she have a vacation in what was proving to be a beautiful country, she wasn't going to have to answer a million questions for at least a little while.

* * *

Arthur had told her a few minutes back that they were getting close to home, and Rachel noticed that it had gotten strangely quiet in the back seat. She turned her head a little to see what was going on, and saw that the boys were all whispering something to each other. They looked like they were pretty deep in a discussion about something they'd rather not be talking about. Rachel turned back around; if it was something they wanted to talk to her about, they'd do it when they were good and ready. Right now, though, they were pulling up to a very odd looking house. A sign out front read 'The Burrow.' Rachel thought it was a good thing that the magical and the mundane _were_ separated in this country. An engineer was likely to have a major heart attack at the sight of the house that obviously relied on magic to remain standing. The car slowed to a stop. It certainly looked like an interesting place to stay. 


	4. Revelations

Thank God, Ron thought. Rachel looked to be deep in thought up there in the front seat, so anything they did should go unnoticed right now. They were only about five minutes away from home, and he really wanted to talk to them before they got there. "Oi, Fred, George," he whispered.

The twins' heads rose from the parchment they'd been scribbling on. "What?" asked George.

"I don't think she's heard of You-Know-Who," Ron said, tilting his head toward Rachel. "I mean, if the Americans are getting all bent out of shape about implied _rudeness_ toward muggles, shouldn't they be, I dunno, really pissed or something about You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters? But then, how could they not know? I know the Ministry's denying it, but shouldn't they have at least heard the rumors?"

Fred and George looked at each other with matching expressions. Somehow, they looked both pleased _and_ disappointed. Ron realized in an instant that Fred and George had thought the same thing he had and probably hadn't thought it would occur to _him_. Was that what they were scribbling on the parchment about?

"I dunno, Ron," George said.

"But Mum said once that Americans tend to ignore problems that they perceive aren't their responsibility or don't affect their lives," Fred added.

"We thought Mum was being bitter about…whatever it was she was on about at the time, but maybe she was right," George said.

Ron was worried. Fred and George didn't do serious – they were practically allergic to it. And he didn't see what was so dire. Yeah, maybe Americans didn't look beyond the end of their nose, but was that really so bad? Or even their problem? "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But so what if it's true? It's not like we can't fight You-Know-Who without their help. We did before, right?"

"Well, what if You-Know-Who also noticed the Americans not noticing him?" asked Fred.

"And what if he noticed that they were more or less a _society_ of blood traitors?"

"Do you think he might decide to do something about it?"

"How long've you two been talkin' about this? An' when were you gonna let me in?" Ron hissed.

George held up the parchment for Ron to see; it was covered in questions, theories, and what looked like one or two new joke ideas. At least the jokes are still in there, Ron thought, feeling a little less worried – at least _something_ was still normal. He looked up as the car began to slow down. They were pulling up to the house. Ron only time to ask one more question.

"So, what are we gonna tell her?"

* * *

Molly Weasley was wonderful. She was a little over-zealous with the hugging, but she was warm and kind and she made breakfast! And it was _real_ breakfast – the kind of things that clog your arteries. You never saw any of this stuff on Mom's table, Rachel thought. Stupid healthy crap… 

Over breakfast, Rachel learned quite a bit about the Weasleys. Percy, who had just gotten his own flat, sounded quite a bit like Todd, but Percy actually sounded worse. And Rachel hadn't thought that was possible. Bill and Charlie sounded pretty cool, though she thought Charlie had to be insane to be around dragons on purpose. The only girl, Ginny, was staying for a few days with a friend from school, and Molly sounded concerned about it. She's probably just over-protective of her only daughter, Rachel thought.

But something was weird; Rachel just couldn't put her finger on what it was. Something seemed slightly strained, like everyone was vaguely nervous or worried, but about what? At first she thought it was her, but the boys didn't even know that she was Garou, and they didn't seem scared of her anyway. But it was something. She looked over at the boys; they kept glancing at each other and fidgeting in their seats…and possibly passing notes…weird. Grrr, she wanted to know what was going on, but she didn't want to be impolite. She just hoped they decided to let her in on whatever it was soon…before her patience wore thin or curiosity drove her insane.

After breakfast Molly showed Rachel around the house a bit, ending the tour with the room Rachel would be staying in. It had been Percy's and indeed it looked like its last inhabitant had been pretty anal. It was very neat, tidy and aggressively boring. Rachel had just begun to unpack some of her stuff when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" she called out.

"Hey, Rachel. Are you busy?" asked Ron. Fred and George were right behind him.

Thank Gaia, Rachel thought, she wouldn't have to wait long. "Nah, not particularly. Come on in. You gonna tell me what's been bugging you guys since the car ride?"

They looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry about that," Ron mumbled, looking intently at his feet.

"Didn't realize we were _that _obvious," Fred added.

"We were just trying to figure out how to tell you 'bout some things," George said, scratching his head.

"Got it worked out now, huh? Wanna sit?" Rachel asked, gesturing toward the bed. She sat in the only chair.

"Thanks. Erm, like George said, we've been trying to figure out how to tell you about some stuff, and we figured we should probably begin at the beginning. Anyway, there was this dark wizard…"

Rachel listened for hours and hours. They told her about the rise of Voldemort, though none of them would say the name. Ron had known that Rachel would ask though, so he'd written it down on a scrap of paper. And after she'd read the name, Ron had destroyed it. Wow, she thought, paranoia was an _art _form here.

They told her about the Death Eaters, the dark years when they were very young, Voldemort's destruction and Harry Potter, the boy who lived. They told her how everyone knew his name, about his scar that linked him to You-Know-Who, and about the person he _actually _was.

Then Ron told her about his adventures with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, his two best friends. He told her about the teachers that helped them and the teachers who made their lives hell. By the end of the tale it was late afternoon, and Rachel's head was spinning… Three headed dogs, evil professors, Tom Riddle, werewolves, escaped prisoners, the Triwizard Tournament, and more, and it all seemed to center on Harry Potter. Rachel knew only one thing – what her first question was.

"I've never heard about _any _of that. How is it that I've never heard a word about this back home?"

"Yeah," said Fred.

George added, "That was our question too."

Rachel didn't know what to say to that. She leaned forward, massaging her eyes. She suddenly felt very tired and very small. She couldn't think about this part of it right now; there were too many things she needed clarified first.

"Okay, we'll come back to that in a bit, maybe even tomorrow after I've gotten some sleep. Right now I'd like to know why you were doing all of these things yourselves. Why didn't you go to any of your teachers? Has it been truly necessary for you to keep trying to get yourselves killed?"

Ron looked taken aback. "No, I mean…we've gotten help from teachers. It's just, it's not like we're _trying _to get ourselves killed. Trouble seems to keep finding us is all."

Fine, she should have known not to ask a child a question like that. He was still young and invincible…except that he wasn't. Only weeks ago, a classmate had died. Hmm, maybe it wasn't just about being young and stupid; maybe they didn't usually trust adults.

"Okay, then. There's one other thing I need to know before I get to the more complicated questions. Has Harry ever thanked Professor Snape for saving his life?"

They were all fishmouthing. Clearly, they all thought she was insane.

"Okay, I'll take that as a no. Now, since I have so much food for thought, I'd like to give all of you something thing to think about as well. Do you think Snape dislikes Harry so much partly because he thinks Harry has something of a cavalier attitude toward his own safety and is somewhat ungrateful toward those who try to protect him?"

Rachel knew better than to voice the thought that Snape was probably also pretty disgusted that Harry and his pals kept taking matters into their own hands. If she were a teacher, that would piss her off to no end.

"I mean, you've described several occasions where Snape was trying to keep Harry safe, yet Harry has never seen fit to say thank you or even to apologize for thinking that it was Snape who was trying to kill him. Nasty guy or not, isn't that at least a _little_ cruel?"

Well, their mouths had shut, but now they were looking at her like…like she was a grown-up… Yeah, it definitely hadn't occurred to them before that she was an adult, but now they'd found her out. And she'd just asked them to be responsible, and they were definitely disappointed about it. Now they were likely to be uncomfortable around her.

Well, Rachel thought, Arthur was probably going to tell the boys about her Garou-ness tomorrow while she was talking to Professor Dumbledore, so they'd be uncomfortable around her even if she hadn't shown them her true colors. And she knew she was unlikely to get anything more out of them today. Best to try again tomorrow, when she'd had time to sleep and to figure out how to ask difficult questions without further alienating them. Before she did that, though, she was going to speak with their parents…but later, after she'd had a nap.

"Look, I think we all have a lot to think about right now. And I've had about three hours of sleep in the last…" Rachel glanced at her watch. Crap, they'd been talking for over five hours. "…twenty-seven hours. Can we pick this back up tomorrow?"

They all nodded. The three boys said goodbye and filed out of her room. But Ron turned to look at her as he moved to close the door. "Look, we'll think about what you asked us to, yeah. But wait till _you_ meet Snape. I'm tellin' ya…he just hates everyone. Just wait…"

* * *

Rachel felt slightly disoriented when she woke. It took her a few moments to remember where she was and why she'd been dreaming about a creepy, reptilian guy for the first time since she was a kid and watched V. Ick, she thought, Voldemort. It just seemed weird to her that no one would say his name. But, judging by the boys' reactions to the name, she figured it would be easier not to speak it herself. No doubt about it, she thought, a smirk spreading across her face, she had to call him 'V'. It stood for Voldemort, not _Visitors_, but it was still funny in _her_ brain. It was just too bad that no one else would get the reference. 

Rachel smiled to herself and stood up. She was starving. Well it was getting dark already, so she'd definitely slept through dinner. She picked up her watch and was shocked to see that it was six-thirty a.m. Okay, it was not getting dark. It was getting light. Assuming that the ol' jet lag had caught up with her after all, Rachel stretched out, grateful that there was enough space for her to do morning workout. She chose to go with Tai Chi rather than her usual Judo, hoping it would help her center her thoughts and take care of a little of her nervous energy.

A half hour later she felt much better – calmer, more centered, but still distressingly unprepared for what the day might bring. Rachel figured she might as well hit the shower, as the house was still very quiet. She could take a leisurely shower guilt-free, and maybe someone else would be awake by the time she was out.

It was nearly forty minutes later when Rachel made her way downstairs. She heard some noise coming from the kitchen and headed in that direction. There was a small brown owl sitting on the kitchen table munching on a piece of toast and Molly Weasley was sitting nearby reading the letter it had brought. She looked up as Rachel walked in.

"Rachel dear, this owl has just arrived from Hogwarts. The Headmaster wants you to meet him this morning rather than this afternoon, if that's alright."

Something probably came up, she thought…headmasterly duties or something. "Not a problem. What time?"

"Eight o'clock. The Headmaster's office will be temporarily connected to the floo network, but only for half a minute. I'm quite relieved that you're already dressed. I expect you'll need to grab your things, and I'll put on a pot of tea. Is that all right dear?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Good thing I don't have to get _much _together, isn't it?"

This was just great…she wouldn't get a chance to talk to the boys before she left. Rachel hoped they weren't still sore about her mini-lecture, but would settle for proof that they'd paid at least _some_ attention to it. And she'd have liked to talk with their parents before she went to Hogwarts. Already she could feel her earlier calm dissipating…dammit. Rachel felt woefully unprepared to speak to the Headmaster. She wasn't sure whether to commend him for being honest with the students or to berate him for letting some of them get away with putting themselves at risk over and over again.

And would she feel comfortable bringing her sisters into the situation? Her gut told her 'hell no!' but her mind told her to she should at least talk to the man before she made that decision.

Rachel went back upstairs and packed Robert, her sisters' list and a few other necessities into her backpack, grabbed her coat and headed back to the kitchen.

Molly was just putting out some toast when she returned.

"Here you are, dear. Professor Dumbledore will certainly provide breakfast, but as you missed supper I thought you'd like to have a bit of toast before you go."

"Thanks, Molly. I appreciate it," Rachel said and proceeded to butter a slice of toast. She glanced at her watch; she could eat her toast and drink a cup of tea in five minutes, but that was about it. She had _really _wanted to talk to Molly about her concerns regarding Voldemort and whether _she_ felt her children were safe at Hogwarts, but certainly didn't want to start _that _conversation if she didn't have time to finish it. So she simply drank her tea, ate her toast and tried get her focus back.

But Molly's voice cut in all too soon. "It's time, Rachel. All set?"

"As I'll ever be," Rachel grumbled as she stood and heaved her backpack onto her shoulder.

"Here you are," Molly said as she held out a bag of floo powder. "You'll need to shout 'Professor Dumbledore's Office,' alright?"

"Thank you. Oh, before I forget, do I come back the same way?"

"Professor Dumbledore hasn't specified in his note, but I believe so. Now go quickly before time's up!"

Rachel took a pinch of floo powder and threw it into the fire, thanked Molly again for the hospitality, shouted "Professor Dumbledore's Office!" and stepped into the green flames.

* * *

Rachel emerged in a very interesting circular room – Ron had described it to her, but seeing it was something else entirely. The walls were almost _entirely _covered with paintings of previous headmasters and headmistresses. Just a few more, she thought, and they'd run out of wall space. And the silver contraptions sitting around, whirring and smoking on tables were very odd indeed. Standing behind the large claw-footed desk was a _very _old man with twinkling blue eyes, his navy robes decorated with silver moons and stars. Pretty, Rachel thought, though perhaps a bit too sparkly. 

"Hello, Miss Ayanami. Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Good morning Professor Dumbledore. And thank you for seeing me, sir." Yeah, that was a better opening than the alternate greeting (Are you completely insane? As an adult and the Headmaster of a school, don't you realize that every effort should be made to ensure that the students are kept safe? Including little Gryffindor lunatics who should have proven by now that they need to be watched like hawks?) that she'd been contemplating.

Dumbledore smiled and said, "Of course, my dear. And I must apologize for rescheduling our meeting. Won't you have a seat? Oh, and…" Dumbledore clapped his hands twice and a large platter of food appeared on his desk.

"Please help yourself, child. We have a great deal to cover today, but first I have taken the liberty of putting together some information for you."

Dumbledore held out several sheaves of parchment, which Rachel took and began to glance through. Were they…holy _crap_! Rachel took out her sisters' list to make certain, but she could swear…yep, the parchments contained detailed responses to every single question, including the current book list for each course, each teacher's extra credit policy, etc. How? And if all those questions were answered, what did Dumbledore mean by 'we have a great deal to cover today'? Rachel raised her head to look at the Headmaster, confusion written all over her face. And he had a broad smile on his. What?

"I received an owl yesterday from a Miss Leah Ayanami. She sent a note, thanking me for taking the time to speak with her sister, and also a list of questions. I believe your sister felt the need to ensure I was properly prepared. And now you will have more time to berate me for endangering the lives of my students."

"Sir, I wouldn't…I mean I don't…"

Dumbledore raised his hand in a placating gesture. "Shhh, it is alright, Miss Ayanami. I expect that Ron has told you stories of his, Harry's and Hermione's adventures over the past four years. I am pleased that you are concerned for their safety. But the children do not know everything that happens in this school, and they do not know how many dangers have been entirely averted without their knowledge."

Professor Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked at Rachel seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "But I expect one of your greatest concerns is Voldemort, and that Harry seems to have far too much contact with him. What I am about to tell you, Miss Ayanami, does not leave this room."

"Of course, sir. And please call me Rachel."

"Very well, if you will call me Albus. There was a prophecy many years ago, about Harry Potter. The gist is that it predicted what happened when Harry was an infant and indicates that one will be the death of the other. Voldemort knows of the prophecy's existence, but does not know its content. He _does_ know that Harry is a threat to him, and will continue to come after the boy. It would be irresponsible of me, knowing what his future holds, to keep Harry completely cut off from Voldemort. Harry _must_ face Voldemort; it is his destiny. Though I protect the boy where I can, were I to keep him locked away, safe from everything, he would be paralyzed by his fear of Voldemort, like everyone else. Harry _is _frightened of him, of course, but he has already learned to control it. Voldemort will keep coming for Harry, but Harry will continue to fight back."

Rachel was stunned…completely stunned. Whatever she had expected, it hadn't been this. But now there was an idea forming in the back of her mind… She had to know.

"Pro…Albus, do any of the professors know about this prophecy?"

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling brightly. "Yes, one."

Rachel immediately replied, "Snape."

"Yes, and I believe you have a theory."

"Well, I have an idea. It seems to me that Snape has partly helped Harry to control his fear of 'the scary'."

"In part, yes. I fear, though, he does _truly_ dislike the boy, but that's neither here nor there. I would actually like to assure you that the events of this past year have caused us to reevaluate our safety measures. The Polyjuice Potion has indeed proved to be a problem, and we are seeking a solution. I trust you have heard of the Marauder's Map?" Rachel nodded. "As Polyjuice does not fool it, we are working on a variant of the map. By September first we will have a map-room. It will track the movements of all occupants of the castle, and an alarm will sound if any unauthorized individuals enter the castle. Unlike the Marauder's Map, the information will also be saved, that we may review any portion, if necessary, to check the movements of the students, instructors and any invited guests over a period of time."

"So basically you're installing a sort of surveillance camera?"

"Yes."

"Cool. That actually takes care of most of my concerns. There's really only one other thing."

Professor Dumbledore motioned for Rachel to continue.

"While I believe the students here are getting a first rate magical education, I'm concerned that they aren't being taught any basic self-defense. If, for example, they are disarmed, how are they supposed to defend themselves? I think it would give the kids a real advantage if they had one or two years of a self-defense or martial arts class."

"You have studied martial arts yourself?"

"Yes, I studied several while I was growing up."

"And were you merely interested in martial arts, or did you already know you were Garou?"

"Oh no, I was just interest…" and shock silenced her. She hadn't told him, and Leah certainly wouldn't have either, so how?

"One of the wards on the school alerts us to the arrival of Garou. Only the three members of staff who are aware of your people's existence are alerted."

"And who are the other two?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and he smiled mischievously. "That, my dear, would be telling."

So, it was for him to know and her to find out, Rachel thought.

Suddenly, Dumbledore looked quite serious. The impish playfulness had gone completely. "Now, I must admit something. I rescheduled our meeting for a reason. I learned something of great concern this morning, something that needs my immediate attention. As luck would have it, however, a solution seems to have presented itself."

Okay, what the hell did that mean? "Go on Albus."

"I learned this morning that Voldemort is attempting to recruit Black Spiral Dancers for his cause."

And Rachel's stomach dropped…and so did her mouth. Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic, don't… "You can't _recruit _Spirals! They serve the Wyrm, the very spirit of corruption, not its little minions. If he did actually convince some to join him, they'd turn on him the moment they thought it was in their best interest. **Is he fucking insane?!**"

That earned her a chuckle. "Actually, that does seem to be the consensus."

Rachel half-smiled, "I apologize for the yelling…and the expletive." She closed her eyes for a moment and rubbed her forehead, thinking about what Albus had told her. 'As luck would have it…a solution…presented itself.' Did that mean what she thought it meant?

"A solution presented itself, eh?"

"Miss Ayanami, would you like a job?"

All her life, and especially in the past few years, Rachel had looked at every opportunity, every fight, every single situation from as many angles as she could think of, before she made a decision. She _never _made a snap decision. Never.

"Yes."


	5. Into the Dungeon

Rachel left the grounds to call Aton, as the magical interference blocked technology. It was one in the morning in California, but with any luck Aton would still be up. And she needed to talk to her Beta.

"Hello?"

"Aton, hey. It's Rachel. I'm _so_ glad you're still up."

"Yeah, you know me – still quite the night owl. What's up? Is something wrong?"

He sounded a little nervous…probably afraid his family time was gonna be cut short.

"A lot has…" she trailed off. "Look, I'm not sure where to begin, so I'll just start by telling you about a guy named Tom."

She told him everything…Voldemort, possible BSD attacks, Harry Potter and his band of merry pals who kept getting themselves nearly killed, and finally told him about the job she had just accepted.

"Wow."

Rachel waited a minute for Aton to continue, but apparently that was all she was gonna get.

"Well, that's pretty much everything. Umm, I've just sent Pascale and John all of this as an email, but I wanted to actually talk to _you_ about it. You guys have a choice to make, and I want you to consider carefully. If you want to follow me over here, you will not be permitted to enter the castle or even step onto the grounds, except in case of emergency. So I will understand if you choose not to come."

Rachel heard Aton exhale a loud, irritated breath and knew what was coming. "And before you start arguing, Albus doesn't want Voldemort discovering that there are Garou at Hogwarts, so he was quite firm on that point. It's also why he's asked me to pretend to be a witch. At least I'll still be able to shift to lupus – Albus suggested that I appear to be an animagus. It's comforting that he seems to understand that I _have _to have wolf-time. There's actually a forest, though, and only part of it is on the school grounds. Ooh, there's also that abandoned house in Hogsmeade that the '_werewolf_' stayed in. I see no reason why you guys couldn't stay there or in the forest, if you wanted to, but I _would _have to discuss that possibility with Albus."

Barely pausing for breath, Rachel continued. "Oh, and I have to make myself a 'wand', and I'd appreciate it if you could help me out. I want to appear to be able to do summoning charms, because I think that would be the most useful power to give it. I can make my own fetish, of course, but if you have any ideas about what kind of spirit to bind into it, I'd appreciate your Theurgey insight. And also, as you're the boss-man while I'm gone, I want to remind you _never_ to hang up on Pascale. There are consequences."

Aton chuckled. "I remember. I'll think about your 'wand', and I'll talk to the guys in the morning. Is there a time I should call you back or do you want me to send you an email?"

"Yeah, just send me an email, since my phone doesn't work on the school grounds…too much magical energy in the area. I assume Robert works because I awakened his spirit, so he's not normal technology."

"Will do, Rachel. In that case, you should hear from us tomorrow."

"Very cool. Well, I should let you go before Pascale comes storming into you apartment demanding to talk to me," she said wryly.

"True, then you'd never get back. Rachel, are you certain this is what you want? Have _you _thought this through properly?" Aton asked seriously.

Though she'd expected the question, she really had no answer for it. "Not really, but it's what I've chosen to do. And I believe it's the _right_ thing to do. It may be the first snap decision I've made in a decade; blame Pascale for nagging me to be more spontaneous. And is that pounding I hear on your door?"

Aton groaned. "Yes, either it's Pascale or burglars have started knocking before they break in. I'd best let you go. We'll get back to you soon, okay?"

"Sure thing, Aton. Either way, I'll talk to you soon."

"Yeah, I know. Bye Rachel."

"Goodbye." Rachel hung up the phone and started back up the path toward the castle. She wasn't sure whether to hope they'd decide to come. She'd be living in the castle, pretending to be a witch; even if they were right next door they could barely be a pack. It would be difficult for all of them.

* * *

Done, everything was done. Her things had been transported for her, and the house elves had her rooms made up and everything put away in a few hours. Her bedroom, aside from the new four-poster bed, looked like it had simply been moved from her apartment. The familiar mixture of Celtic and Japanese design was more comforting than she had expected it to be. The message was clear – here, in this room, you are home. It was perfect. You'd never guess you were in the dungeon, Rachel thought. Why then had Albus suggested she stay elsewhere? 

"_Are you certain you wish to live in the dungeons? There are other, more habitable, sections of the castle with adequate space for your classroom and living quarters._"_  
_"_Again, yes, I'm certain. I have my reasons. Will my presence in the dungeon upset Professor Snape though? I've been told he can be quite unpleasant._"_  
__Albus favored Rachel with a sly grin. "Well, my dear, I leave that for you to discover. If you're certain this is where you wish to be, the rooms I have in mind for you are this way_…"

Absently, she wondered what that grin had been about. Something about it was slightly unnerving, like he knew something that she didn't. It happened too frequently for her comfort; she was _not_ used to people that were more intuitive than she was. If he truly didn't know why she'd chosen the dungeons, though, at least she knew one thing that he didn't. From what she'd heard of Hogwarts' houses, she had no doubt that both Darcy and Leah would be sorted into Slytherin, and Rachel wanted to keep an eye on them, assuming her mother allowed them to attend Hogwarts, of course.

So…she just needed call her apartment complex to give her 30 days' notice, talk to her mother, and set up her dojo. The calls would have to wait until it was morning in California, and she really wanted to put off the call to her mother for as long as humanly possible…at least for a day or two, anyway, when she could have a good discussion outline organized, and she couldn't set up her dojo until she had supplies.

Albus had promised that he could acquire everything she needed and have it sent down to her by early evening, and that the house-elves would be happy to help her set everything up. Rachel was relieved that she wouldn't have to do it all by herself. It would be nice to have help spreading out the mats, at least. And they could apparently set up the charms to ensure that the temperature would be uniform throughout the room. And while Rachel thought it very odd to have a roaring fire in her dojo, she knew that the cold and damp of the dungeon would not be conducive to flexibility.

Until then, she figured, she might as well explore the castle.

Rachel explored for the rest of the morning and the entire afternoon, except for the quick jog off-grounds to call her apartment complex, but didn't think she'd seen even a quarter of the castle. Nor had she seen a living soul. She hadn't really expected to, since Albus had told her that the entire staff was on holiday or off running errands for him. But the non-living souls she'd encountered, those had been surprising. Rachel was determined to get even with Peeves for dumping the bucket of water, bucket included, on her head. The creature had darted off – do poltergeists dart? – cackling about 'gettin' one over on the new Yank.' Sir Nicholas had been pleasant, but the Bloody Baron was a bit creepy. Of course, when she'd told him that her sisters would almost certainly be in his House, he had perked up and was a bit friendlier, giving her a tour of the dungeons. 'A courtesy to Hogwarts' new professor,' he'd called it. She hadn't corrected him, but Albus had agreed to her request that her title would be 'Sensei', rather than Professor.

By the time Rachel returned to her rooms, her supplies and dinner had been delivered. When she finished eating, the tray disappeared and several house elves popped into the dojo. Four were wearing Hogwarts tea towels, but the fifth was wearing horribly mismatched clothes – a maroon sweater, plaid shorts, one orange sock, and one hot pink sock. Overall, the 'ensemble' was very nearly _painful _to look at. It seemed that Ron _hadn't_ exaggerated about Dobby. Well, she thought, time to meet, greet and get to work…

* * *

Severus Snape was not, at this particular moment, pleased with his life. Not that he usually was, he thought to himself, but he usually wasn't bleeding from God only knew how many cuts _and_ suffering from after-effects of Cruciatus. Thus far, focusing on getting to his rooms so he could take one or two very strong potions had kept him on his feet. He'd barely had the strength to apparate back, and he'd had to rest by the gate for a few minutes before he thought he could make it to the castle. But the Headmaster had been _kind _enough to send a carriage out to bring him back. Very little escaped the old man's notice, Snape thought with a grimace. 

That was precisely why Severus had decided _not _to go to Dumbledore until he had mended a bit. Albus would not be fooled by his claim that he was merely tired and wished to rest, would not grant his wish to be left alone, and would eventually order him to the hospital wing. If he could just get to his rooms and properly ward the door, his day could not get worse than it already was. Meddlesome, bossy…was that _music _coming from his dungeons?

No one should be down here, he thought as he followed the sound of pulsing music. Irritation and confusion gave him a second, well, third…perhaps fourth wind, and he moved quickly and silently through corridors following the sound. As he grew near to the sound, Severus began to make out words…

_Just paint your face and shadow smile  
__Slipping me away from you  
__Oh it doesn't matter how you hide  
__Find you if we're wanting to  
__So slide back down and close your eyes  
__Sleep awhile - you must be tired  
_

_When every night I burn  
__Every night I call your name  
__Every night I burn  
__Every night I fall again_

It didn't sound like any of the trash he'd heard idiot children listening to on the Wizarding Wireless, but it could hardly be a muggle recording. Fortunately, that wouldn't play on the school grounds. Perhaps this was simply a new group?

_Every night I burn  
__Scream the animal screams  
__Every night I burn  
__Dream the crow black dream_

The music, if it could be called that – 'animal scream' was a fair description, really – was coming from what _should_ have been an empty room, but light was coming from the open doorway. Severus crept toward the door and peered inside the room, and then his eyes widened in shock. He'd been gone only a week and already there was a new classroom set up! What was the old man up to, he wondered.

_Every night I burn  
__Screaming the animal scream  
__Every night I burn  
__Dreaming the crow-black dream. Yeah, yeah_

But it was not an average classroom. The décor was drastically different from the rest of the castle. Japanese? Yes, there appeared to be several Japanese weapon displays and there were some new paintings. Three of them depicted some sort of fighting; one painting was entirely hand-to-hand combat, which appeared to be getting ugly, the second had a mixture of hand to hand and weapon fighting, and the third looked to be some sort of organized sword-fight. It was the only painting with onlookers; it appeared to be some sort of match. The paintings on the far wall were too far away to see properly, but they seemed quite still. Perhaps the occupants of the far paintings were participating in the fighting in the nearer ones.

_Dreaming the crow-black dream…_

As the song wound down…thank Merlin…Severus continued his perusal of the room. There appeared to be cushions of some sort covering the floor, and the room's sole occupant was performing some sort of fighting routine on a cushion near the center of the room. He, no _definitely _a she, Severus thought appreciatively as he momentarily caught her profile, was moving so quickly that a few of her kicks looked blurry. She must be the instructor, he thought as – blast! – another song began…and it was shaping up to be just as annoying as the last.

It was time to find out exactly who this woman was and what was going on. It appeared as though Albus was adding some sort of muggle fighting course to the curriculum. If that was the case, Severus was determined that the new teacher would be properly cowed before the night was over. He folded his arms, pushed the still-throbbing pain to the back of his mind, adopted his best glare, and cleared his throat. She stopped mid-kick at the sound. Excellent…

* * *

Rachel had finished setting up her dojo but she was still pretty wound up. She hoped a nice, relaxing, and hopefully exhausting kata would do the trick. She had soaked up a lot of information in the past few days, she thought as she popped The Crow Soundtrack into Robert's CD-ROM drive and programmed her preferred song order into it. It was simply unreal that all her things had already been brought over. It just floored her that Dumbledore had been able to arrange it all so quickly. Sure, she understood his desire to keep her there and get her settled in as soon as possible. After all, she had to be prepared for a possible BSD attack; yeah, that was just fabulous. She'd start again in the morning, learning every inch of the castle, and then she'd move on to learning every inch of the grounds, alternating between homid and lupus. 

But still, V was truly insane if he thought he could just recruit Spirals. They _would _turn on him sooner or later, probably sooner, and no single wizard, powerful or no, could stand up to even two or three packs of Garou, let alone an army of them – if he could even successfully convince them that they wanted to help him. But…if he did succeed, and if he gave them the tools and information to attack this school, may Gaia help them all. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. As Robert Smith began to sing, Rachel closed her eyes and allowed the music and the movement to take her.

She'd barely gotten into full swing when someone cleared his throat…loudly. Rachel straightened up and turned toward the door…

And her jaw dropped. All she could think was, 'Well hello tall, dark and broody.' This _had_ to be Snape. With the hair and the complexion and the dressed all in black and…and Nine Inch Nails playing in the background…it was a little creepy. He was like a cross between Trent Reznor and Eric Draven…well, a slightly older Trent/Eric, but still…yummy. She hadn't been prepared for him to be sexy; the description had been all 'bad teeth, bad hair, scary nose, and freakishly pale.' Wait; was _that_ what Dumbledore's smile had been about? Did he know Snape was her type? Rachel took a deep breath and tried to focus her thoughts. They really were darting all over the place. He looked very irritated – the music was probably too loud – but he also looked exhausted and…he was in a lot of pain and trying to cover it up, and was that blood she smelled?

"Robert, turn the music down," Rachel muttered as she stepped closer to the man who was glowering at her.

She should probably introduce herself, but that could come later. He really looked hurt, and if she could smell the blood from halfway across the room, he had definitely been bleeding far more than was good for him. She walked toward him quickly, "Are you okay?"

"Am I…"

He looked shocked. Well, from what she'd heard most people thought he was shit, so why should he expect concern?

"I'm sorry, the music _was_ turned up pretty loud. Do you need to sit down? You look exhausted…"

She reached out toward him. Dumbledore _had _asked her to keep a low profile – the teachers didn't need to know that she wasn't a witch…and if she used Mother's Touch, he'd know it hadn't been any kind of spell. She hadn't made her 'wand' yet, and there wasn't a single spell that worked as well or as quickly as the Garou healing touch anyway, but Dumbledore had told her that he trusted Severus Snape completely, so Rachel figured she could too. And actually, odds were good that Snape himself had been the one to send Dumbledore the warning that V was attempting to recruit Spirals.

"Who are you? And what, pray tell, are you doing here?" Severus asked silkily and dangerously, as he caught Rachel's hand before it could reach his face. The shocked look had disappeared; in its place was a cold, frighteningly empty mask.

But Rachel wasn't daunted. She'd _laughed _at scarier things than him. And he was hiding it even better now, but she could still see the pain behind his eyes. And she tried to ignore the way the silky smoothness of his voice did funny, melty things to her insides. She held eye contact as she turned her hand and interlaced her fingers with his to heal him. She watched him carefully, as the sudden lack of pain could be enough of a shock to cause a short blackout to those who weren't expecting it.

Indeed, Severus Snape's eyes grew wide and then rolled back in his head, but Rachel caught him and lowered him carefully to the ground.


	6. Baggage

Snape had been unconscious for about five minutes when Rachel began to wonder if he was going to sleep through the night. He _had_ looked wiped out. How long, she thought, had he been awake _and_ hurt?

He looked much younger asleep, Rachel mused. Was it the pain, the exhaustion, or the scowling that added the years to his face? He really should do something about the hair though, she thought. As Rachel reached out to brush a few strands out of his face, a familiar voice interrupted her musing…

"Oh dear. It appears that Severus has had a bit too much excitement for one evening."

Rachel stood quickly and met Albus' amused gaze. "No, no, no one was excited… I mean, he was…there was no…um, he passed out." Oh, this was bad.She could _feel _the blood rushing to her face. Could she have sounded _more _like an idiot? Probably not, she thought, but if she'd really _tried _maybe she could have sounded trashier.

As he walked toward them, Albus said, "I meant only that Severus has recently been on the wrong end of several curses and hexes." Albus knelt by Severus and raised an eyebrow.

"But it appears as though Severus is physically undamaged," Albus intoned, catching Rachel's eye. His own were twinkling merrily. "I wonder how that could be?"

Okay, Rachel thought, he was not angry; that was amusement in his voice. So she took a moment to relax and order her thoughts. Prepared, she smiled. "I believe you know precisely how. I believe the only uncertainty at the moment is whether or not you are annoyed about it."

Albus chuckled. "No, I am not annoyed, but only because it is Severus. If it were anyone else, I am certain I would be quite upset. But I did, after all, tell you that I trust Severus implicitly. And I expect also that you have already guessed that it was he that sent the warning about Voldemort's recent activity."

Inwardly sighing, Rachel was relieved that her instincts had been correct. She opened her mouth to speak, but Albus raised his hand and said, "Tomorrow we will speak further. The three of us will need to discuss the situation in the morning, but now I must get Severus to his rooms." Conjuring a stretcher, Albus floated Severus onto it.

"I understand, but before you take him, let me grab…" Rachel walked to her desk, opened the first aid drawer, and removed a vial filled with a swirling, pearlescent blue liquid. "I may have healed his injuries, but Severus will still wake up stiff and sore from the muscle strain without some Liquid Massage." Handing Albus the vial, she issued instructions. "He'll need to swallow all of this."

"Thank you, Rachel. I'll see to it. This is quite considerate of you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Albus. I'll see you both in the morning."

Albus nodded and guided the stretcher out of the room.

* * *

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap… 

After feeling around for the alarm clock for half a minute, Rachel's semi-conscious mind registered that the tapping sound was coming from the window. Window? "Oh!"

Rachel stumbled out of bed and over to the window. She opened it and the poor barn owl flew in with an indignant hoot and perched on her desk.

"I'm sorry if you were out there a long time," Rachel said as she untied the letter from the owl's leg and stroked its feathers. "I was up way too late." Once she began to unroll the parchment, the owl screeched angrily and flew back out the window. Leaning out, she yelled, "I said I was sorry!"

Shaking her head, Rachel read the note.

_Rachel, please meet Severus and myself in my office at nine am for breakfast and a meeting.  
Albus_

She glanced at the clock on the wall; it was already a quarter past eight. Dammit, she thought, there went her leisurely morning. She'd just enough time to check her email, update her day planner and get ready.

First things first, Rachel thought as she got into her email account. She had two new emails, one from Aton, and one from Pascale. She decided to check Aton's message first:

_Can't get rid of us that easy. We'll figure details soon. – Aton_

Rachel chuckled. That was Aton, short and sweet, just the basics. Pascale's response would probably be at least 10 pages long and describe, in excruciating detail, her thoughts and feelings from the moment she got the news until the moment she sent the email. Ugh, that one could wait until later. For now, she pulled up her Planner program and set about updating it.

**Saturday tasks (X-Cancelled, C-Completed, P-Pending)  
X** Sightseeing  
**C** Meeting with Headmaster Dumbledore Hogwarts  
**C** Call Aton, email John & Pascale  
**C** Set up classroom  
**C** Complete discussion outline for Thursday task: Call Mother, convince of sanity  
**C** Give notice at apartment complex. Instruct to mail security deposit to parents' home.  
**P** Explore Castle – make 1-week project

**Sunday tasks**  
**X** Sightseeing  
**C** Check email, pack response? "Can't get rid of us that easy."  
**P** Meeting with Albus and Severus – 9 am  
- 1. Discuss V, BSDs and security situation  
- 2. Iron out details of Judo course:  
- - - a. How many students will I have all together?  
- - - b. Class size? Suggest 1st-3rd years together, 4th-6th years together, and 7th years alone.  
- 3. Provide Albus with pattern and photos of Judogi. He will forward to robe shop.  
- 4. Request permission for pack to be allowed to live in the forest or the Shrieking Shack.  
- - - a. If shot down, prepare detailed argument for case, schedule follow-up meeting.  
**P** Call Mother, convince of sanity discussion outline (link)  
**P** Explore castle

**Unscheduled tasks**  
Explore dark forest, in lupus (safer, Albus states). Identify all areas of Wyrm infestation.  
Cleanse all Wyrm emanations from the forest. Albus' request: "Avoid killing anything, if  
possible. Capture dangerous beasts and deliver to me, caged, for handling."  
1. Delegate to pack should they be permitted to come.  
Prepare vocabulary lists and other handout materials for Judo course.

Satisfied with her schedule, Rachel headed toward the shower.

* * *

Severus was having the most pleasant dream. He was warm and felt more comfortable than he had in years. Any moment now, the dream would fade. He would wake, feeling all the aches he was accustomed to and then some, as he'd been hit with Cruciatus and other various curses and hexes before he'd limped back to his rooms. 

Severus sat up in shock. He was awake; he was certain of it. But he couldn't remember making it to his bed, or even to his rooms. And why, he wondered, wasn't he in any pain?

The last thing he could remember was that woman…a new professor, apparently intent on teaching the students to bloody each other with their bare hands. As if the students' keen interest in cursing one another wasn't already more than enough to keep the staff on its toes.

_That_ thought he'd save for the pending argument with Albus. At any rate, that woman had looked right though him, seen that he was in pain and had immediately expressed concern for his well-being. She'd crossed the room and had her hand inches from his face before his brain managed to process her unexpected behavior. He'd known the shock had registered on his face, but had planned to deal with the highly unnerving situation with a harsh grip on her hand and a few scathing words. He'd not been profound, but _had_ been properly intimidating.

It hadn't phased her _in the slightest!_ For a moment, she'd actually looked amused, but that had shifted almost instantly to concern. But something had happened in between. For a moment, her eyes had unfocused and her breath had hitched as an expression, vaguely familiar yet impossible to name, flitted across her face.

He'd tried to keep his death grip on her hand, but she'd shaken it off all too easily. After that, she'd simply laced her fingers through his, and then nothing. Blank. Whatever happened afterward, he simply could not recall.

Scowling as his focus was broken by a knock on his door, Severus rose from his bed and stepped into his slippers. He snatched his dressing gown off its hook and slipped into it as he stalked toward the door. Feeling the familiar weight of his wand in the pocket, he paused momentarily, wondering how it got there. A second, sharper knock at the door had him moving once more.

"Blasted interruption," Severus muttered. He needed peaceful solitude so that he could puzzle out what happened, not a morning visit from some well-meaning, irksome colleague.

Pointing his wand at the door and muttering '_Quis_', he was unsurprised that the name Albus Dumbledore wrote itself on the door. Scowling, he opened the door to the cheerful face of the Headmaster.

"Good morning Severus. Feeling well, I trust?" Albus asked lightly.

"Albus, isn't it a bit early in the day for a visit?" Even as he spoke, Severus backed up to allow Albus into the room.

"Perhaps Severus, but I thought it best not to let you stew for too long. I believe you have some questions."

He barely managed to tamp down the urge to call Albus a nosy ponce. "Indeed? So, _what _are they?"

It was _just _possible that he was being childish, but it was too early in the morning to play twenty questions. Albus would either volunteer whatever information he had or he'd take the hint and leave so that Severus could piece the events of last night together himself.

Albus cast a disapproving look over the tops of his spectacles, and then smiled. "After Miss Ayanami healed you, you passed out. I brought you here, tucked you in and gave you this," Albus said as he held up a vial. "Miss Ayanami is quite a thoughtful woman. She did not wish you to awaken in any pain, so she insisted I give you a dose of Liquid Massage. I do not believe I have heard of it before, but…"

With a snarl, Severus snatched the vial from Albus' hand. The words 'Liquid Massage' were indeed written in small, neat black script on the vial, along with the letters 'TM'. In a soft, threatening tone that he usually reserved for Potter, Severus asked, "You fed me a potion you had no prior knowledge of?" Severus paused and mentally replayed Albus' words, but got stuck on one phrase: '_Miss Ayanami healed you_'. There were no spells that could heal the damage from the Cruciatus curse so quickly, or so completely. No witch could, the only thing he knew of that could was a…

Hoping against hope that hunch was incorrect, Severus pleaded to any higher power that gave a damn to, just this _once_, cut him a break. "Albus, what is that creature in my dungeon?"

Albus frowned disapprovingly. "_She_, Severus, is Garou and…"

Severus cut Albus off, anger apparent in his biting tone, "Have you lost the _crumb _of sense you were clinging to! Is Voldemort not enough! Must we find new and exciting ways to endanger the students?"

His tone placating, Albus attempted to continue. "Severus, Miss Ayanami is no more a danger to the students than I am."

"And as you hired the creature, I am inclined to agree," Severus sneered.

"Severus, is it truly too much to request that you reserve judgment until you get to know her?"

"Quite. Your scenario requires that I get to know her," Severus bit out.

"Severus, if Voldemort is successful in his attempt to recruit Black Spiral Dancers, Miss Ayanami will be an invaluable ally," Albus reasoned.

"Voldemort will certainly _not _be successful," Severus countered. "Once he learns how monstrous, savage, and uncontrollable those _things _are, he will certainly abandon the plan."

Albus shook his head. "Do you truly believe that is likely? Voldemort would have to admit that they are too powerful and dangerous to be allies, thereby admitting weakness to his followers and, more importantly, to himself."

Though Severus opened his mouth to argue, Albus raised his hand for silence. "We will continue this discussion in my office at nine o'clock. I expect professional behavior, Severus. _This _young woman has done nothing to incur your wrath. She has, in point of fact, shown you nothing but kindness. I will leave you to get ready."

Albus turned and left the room, closing the door behind him with a wave of his wand.

Severus stared at the door for a few moments after Albus left, trying to calm the rising panic. He _would _control it. He would _not _appear weak again. He could only hope that he had not already done irreparable damage.

At least, Severus thought, he was protected in other ways. He _did_ have the potions and charms that made him _more _unattractive. If his natural appearance didn't repulse her, magic was guaranteed to do the trick. Even if this Miss Ayanami _was _the most attractive woman he'd seen in many years, Severus still had no desire to be used as breeding stock. He shut his eyes against his past, but the memories, the pain, the fear, the rage…all of it came rushing back at once…

* * *

'_Drink this, love. It will protect you. I know darling; you don't want to look like this. It cannot be helped._'

* * *

'_You can never tell your father about them, son. He must never find out. They would kill him…_'

* * *

'_So, you wish to stop your treatments because the other children tease you? Do you prefer the alternative, young man? You wish now to become nothing more than some Shadow Lord woman's plaything? Or would you rather have the chance to live your own life. I'm trying to protect you, my darling…_' 

'_By making me hide who I am? Mum, please don't make me… I don't want to._'

'_One day, Severus, you will. And you will thank me. Now, do as I say child._'

* * *

To this day, Severus wished she had been wrong. That she had judged their Garou relations too harshly. He'd been fifteen years old when he understood what his mother was protecting him from. 

_The dark, imposing man regarded Severus with cold eyes. _'_I can hardly believe this is your son, Eileen. Small, ugly, weak…how could you suffer this creature to live? And why is there no suitable replacement for this…foul creature?_'

_His voice taking on a threatening edge, the man turned that cold gaze to Severus_'_ mother. _'_We were very generous, Eileen, permitting you to mate with that _human_ you desired. We required only that you provide us with an acceptable offspring. I see now that we should have refused._'

_The man placed a finger under Eileen_'_s chin and forced her head up, looking her over with a critical eye. _'_All is not lost, however. Your duty can still be performed. We can still be…satisfied._'

_Leering at her, the man snapped his fingers and two huge ape-like thugs stepped from the shadows, advancing upon Eileen Snape. Severus reached for his wand, but his mother turned to look at him, terrified, tears streaming down her face. Her voice, however, was strong and steady. _'_Severus, go back into the house. **Now!** Do not look back._'

_Severus obeyed his mother immediately, cursing himself for protecting his own miserable skin_…

'_What's going on in this house while I'm away! Your mother has sent word that her uncle has taken seriously ill and she needs to stay with him. What do you know of this?_'

'_Only that she left this morning, father. Nothing else._'_ Returning to his room, Severus wept for the second to last time in his life_…

* * *

He received an owl from his mother – the first owl he'd received all year, only days before the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts. She told him that he should know that his father had been long gone by the time she returned home, was sorry that she would be unable to pick him up at the train station, but had transportation lined up. 

He'd been almost afraid to go home, but deserting his mother would have been unthinkable. That was what his bastard of a _father_ had done. What he saw upon his homecoming changed the course of his life; his mother looked as though she'd aged ten years, and he quietly vowed revenge on the foul _things _that had destroyed her life. After retuning to school in the fall, he'd spent every spare moment plotting, delving into the Dark Arts for help.

* * *

'_Severus Snape, I presume?_' 

_Severus took in the tall, sinister-looking woman before him. _'_Yes?_'

'_We received word that you have graduated near the top of your class, gotten the highest scores awarded on many of your tests. Is this true?_'

'_Indeed. You are?_'

_The woman looked him over with a critical eye. Severus felt a shock go through him, replaced by cold hatred. The creature standing before him was Garou; he'd bet his life on it._

'_You are not pleasing to the eye, but that matters little. A sharp, cunning mind is the greatest asset one could have. You are acceptable._'

_Severus_'_ blood ran cold, and he recoiled in disgust. What happened to his mother would not happen to him. His revenge would be sweet indeed. _'_While I am flattered, madam, I must decline. **I**_ _do not find **you** acceptable. Leave at once._'

_Before he could react, the woman had her hand around his throat. Squeezing slightly, she favored him with a malicious grin. _'_Did I give you a choice, boy? Don't worry, my sweet, you'll love it_.'

_He froze for a moment as the haunted, broken look that had not left his mother's eyes since she returned home burned in his mind's eye. Growling, Severus uncapped the vial he kept in his pocket, throwing the contents in the monster's face. Instantly, a layer of pure silver began spreading over her entire body. Moments later, she was a shocked-looking silver statue._

'_I said NO, monster._'_ Severus sat back, watching with detached fascination as the silver shell slowly shrunk, squeezing the life out of the thing. With cold satisfaction, he listened to the pained, terrified screams until they faded_…

* * *

Severus shook his head, trying to banish the painful, shameful memories of his past. The past that had led him, inexorably, to Voldemort. Heading toward his bathroom, he began his morning routine. 

At a quarter of nine, he was prepared. But just as he reached the door, Severus heard a familiar sound coming from his fireplace. He turned around just in time to catch the slightly sooty paper airplane that was hurtling toward him. Emitting a small sigh, he opened the note from Albus.

_Severus, should it be your intention, please refrain from charming or otherwise altering your appearance. It would be unnecessary, as no children are to be present at today's meeting.  
__Albus  
P.S. As always, feel free to floo straight to my office._

Severus narrowed his eyes at the implication that altering his appearance would be childish. And with the invitation to floo to Albus' office, he'd have enough time to reverse everything and still make it to the meeting on time. "Very well Albus," he muttered. "Anything that happens will be entirely on your head."

* * *

Pausing outside of Albus' office, Rachel smoothed her hair and clothing. She'd tried to go for non-threatening. She wore very little makeup and had curled her hair. And after much internal debate, she'd forgone her usual form-fitting, yet severe, black on black ensemble. Instead, she'd worn one of her birthday gifts, a swishy floral print skirt in shades of lavender, green, and gray, the matching pale green boat neck top, and a silver choker. She hoped Severus would at least make the connection about the necklace – she could not change forms without doing serious damage to her neck. 

Though she thought she could be overreacting, Rachel was certain that Severus would be feeling vulnerable after what had happened. And though her experience with men was sadly limited, she believed that she could say with some authority that men _hated _to feel vulnerable. Rachel only wished she'd been able to think of a less stereotypical way to look harmless than dressing to look all _girly_. Inhaling a deep, cleansing breath, she pushed the door open.


	7. Emotionally Stunted

"Good morning, Rachel. I trust you slept well?"

"Good morning, Albus. Very well, thanks. Good morning, Professor Snape." Rachel smiled at Albus, but flinched at the outright hostility in Severus Snape's eyes. Recovering, she sat in the empty chair in front of Albus' desk and busied herself with setting up her laptop. Rachel could _feel_ Snape's glare, could practically _taste_ his disapproval of her 'muggle technology' or whatever. Her instinct to respond, to establish her dominance, was almost overwhelming. In her mind's eye, she saw herself shifting to lupus, knocking Snape to the ground, and holding him there, growling menacingly, until he bared his neck in submission. She managed, however, to limit her reaction to a single low growl. Well, Rachel thought, so much for non-threatening.

She chanced a glance in his direction, but Severus was studiously ignoring her and she took a moment to study his appearance. It looked like a good night's sleep had been very good for him; he looked years younger than he had just last night. He'd also washed his hair and his color looked a bit better. Something else seemed different, too. Her brows knit together as she tried to puzzle out what it was, but Albus interrupted her thoughts.

"We have much to cover this morning, why don't we get started?"

Inside a minute, Severus' appearance and his rudeness were pushed to the back of Rachel's mind as Albus began directly addressing issues he had only hinted at or glossed over entirely during their previous visit. He explained that Voldemort's return had been summarily denied by the Ministry of Magic, and so no steps were being taken by their government to prepare for the inevitable war. Albus then briefly described the conversation he'd only just had with an ally, who _happened _to be kinfolk, in the Dept. of Magical Affairs. Inside a week, Rachel would have a new identity as a witch and licensed teacher. With the problems at the Ministry, Albus was also determined to ensure that Rachel could in no way fall under its jurisdiction, so he'd drawn up a contract which ensured that, as a citizen of the USA, Rachel would be bound by its laws as well as the current Hogwarts rules and regulations. Albus assured Rachel that, while his precautions might not be necessary, he felt it was important that at least one instructor at the school would not be required to answer to the Ministry for anything whatsoever.

Then, to Severus' obvious displeasure, Albus began to tell her about the Order of the Phoenix and their secret preparations for the upcoming battle, explaining that within the next few days their base of operations would be set up and ready for inhabitants.

"This, Rachel, is where I must ask your forgiveness for my actions." At her puzzled look, Albus quickly continued. "Very early this morning I spoke with your mother, and she was able to put me in contact with your pack. My primary goal in speaking both with your mother and your pack was to learn more about you – your character, temperament, etc. In short, I needed to be certain that I'd made the correct decision in hiring you. But I had a second purpose as well. I spoke with them at great length, and Aton, Pascale, and John have all agreed to join our fight, just as you have. They are prepared to move into our base and begin assisting in any way that they can. They await only your approval before they come. Again, I apologize for not speaking with you first, but I hope you understand that at the moment, it is imperative that we move swiftly and decisively."

Rachel was quite shocked, but not at all angry. Albus was, of course, in charge of Hogwarts and now her employer, so it was his right to act as he saw fit. And she was actually relieved that he'd wanted character references. Frankly, his instant job offer, coupled with the horror stories of some of the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, had left her feeling more than a bit concerned about Albus' hiring practices

Her shock actually stemmed from the fact that Albus had taken care of so many of her concerns overnight. He'd talked to her mom, so their upcoming conversation would probably go much more smoothly. He'd come up with a solution for bringing over her pack – a better solution, in fact, than any she had come up with herself. Of course, he was also working with a lot more information that she was.

Sparing just a moment to lament all the planning that had now gone completely down the drain, she brought up her email account. Might as well get this over with now, she mused. "I'm sending them an email right now, Albus. Aton will get them to England by plane or Moon Bridge as soon as possible. Do they already know where they're going?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw Severus look at her in shock. He must have expected her to become angry.

Albus smiled. "They do. They'll be meeting the Weasleys, and then they will all be going to the base together. And I thought you'd like to know, Molly tells me that her children, Percy notwithstanding, have reacted quite favorably to the news that you are, well, more than you appear at first glance."

Overall feeling relieved, Rachel nonetheless was concerned about something Albus had said. "Percy notwithstanding?"

For a moment, Albus looked very old, and very tired. "I'm afraid that Percy's ambitions can lead him in rather unfortunate directions. But it is not my place to explain further."

"Albus," Severus said, speaking for the first time, "Fascinating as it may be, why are we discussing the Weasleys?

"I simply thought Rachel would like to know how her cousins, well, second cousins reacted to the news that Rachel was not merely a squib after all."

"Cousins?" Severus turned his malevolent gaze toward Rachel.

Their eyes met and locked, and though she was growing steadily more irritated by his behavior, she was still not intimidated. In fact, she felt a sudden desire to pass on that good old mom-ism that if he wasn't careful his face could get 'stuck that way', so he'd better watch out. Just as she opened her mouth to issue the warning, he turned to face Albus once more.

"_Interesting_. Please do continue Headmaster. I'm certain that, at any moment, it will become clear why my presence was required this morning," he drawled.

It hit her like a bolt of lightning. Severus' behavior and words were keeping her off balance. She'd used similar tactics while sizing up opponents and allies. Rachel was disgusted with her performance thus far – if she were Severus she would certainly be unimpressed. _Dammit_, she swore internally. Hoping she could work out her frustration later, she resolved to remain calm and unemotional for the rest of the meeting. With any luck, she'd be able to find something large and evil to pummel in the forest.

Rachel refocused on Albus, who was detailing the work that needed to be done to get the map room ready. As the room would be functioning on many of the same principles as the Marauder's Map, the work was to be done largely by Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. But Albus, Severus and several other members of the Order would be placing the many wards and charms on the room and around the school that would be necessary to make the room function the way Albus had described earlier.

Although her presence was not required for the project, Rachel took detailed notes. Better, she thought, that she knew when Black and Lupin would be showing up. Judging by what Ron had told her about the events of their third year, Severus was sure to be in a foul mood any time they were around, and she thought it best to be prepared for it.

Albus leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. "Now, Severus. Is there anything you did not include in the message you sent that we need to know?"

Rachel shifted her gaze to Severus. He would have sent Albus the message before he was attacked, so obviously there was _something _Albus needed to know.

"They never saw me, Headmaster. Only a small fraction of the curses that were sent in my general direction actually found purchase. Fortunately, as that slight damage has been taken care of, I can resume my activities immediately."

Rachel stifled an impressed grin. That 'slight damage' would have had a lesser man whimpering, curled into a ball on the floor. She assumed he downplayed the injury partly so that Albus would not make a fuss. It also suggested that her assistance was not actually required. In a rare 'glass is half-full' moment, Rachel chose to believe it was a backhanded thanks as well.

"How close are they to trusting you?" Albus asked. "Do the Death Eaters believe that you support Voldemort?"

"All but a few are convinced. Pettigrew is one of the few that still doubts my loyalty, or so Lucius has informed me. I gather that Voldemort believes Pettigrew to be an imbecile, so it is possible that his doubts will work in our favor."

"Then perhaps you will not be required to _sneak _into the next meeting?"

"Whenever that is," Severus replied. "Voldemort advised them that it will be necessary to keep activities to a minimum for the time being. They want you discredited, believed to be no more than an old fool, before they strike."

Albus smiled. "Excellent. Even with Minister Fudge's best efforts to accomplish their goal, that should buy us a fair amount of time. And it will leave you free to assist Rachel in cleaning out the Dark Forest."

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Severus replied in a cold, clipped tone. "Surely, Headmaster, if Miss Ayanami is 'more than she appears', she should be capable of handling the forest on her own."

Rachel managed, with considerable effort, not to react, except to turn her face back toward Albus. Inside, she allowed herself to feel good and hurt. And she rethought her assumptions about the cause of Severus' behavior. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him gripping the arm of his chair hard enough for his knuckles to turn white, indicating anger or fear, probably both. She factored in the rest of his reactions to her and…bingo. Well, it was about time she ran into someone who was scared of her, Rachel thought miserably. And it _would_ just have to be the first guy she'd been attracted to in over four years. Otherwise it just wouldn't be properly ironic.

She refocused on Albus, who looked pissed. His mouth was a hard line. "I am certain that Rachel is _more _than capable of handling the forest alone; I would still like you to accompany her, Severus."

Severus drew breath to respond, but Rachel got there first, and she was proud of her steady tone. "If Professor Snape does not wish to be involved in the project, I can certainly handle it by myself. I'll just need a list of what I may and may not kill. Is there anything else we need to cover?"

Rachel was damned uncomfortable, and needed to leave, and soon, so she could have a good cry. She allowed her intense need to flee to show in her eyes, hoping Albus would understand and allow her the chance to escape with her dignity intact.

"No, my dear, I believe we are finished for the time being," Albus assured her softly.

Rachel nodded, pulled a manila folder out of her bag, and handed it to Albus. "Here, this contains the Judogi pattern I promised you, as well as my recommendations for class size and age division. Now, if you will excuse me, I have much to do today."

She had packed away her laptop as she spoke. She stood, nodded to Albus and Severus in turn, offered a quick, "Gentlemen," as a goodbye, and turned and walked out of the room.

Rachel shut the door quietly behind her and slowly walked down the stairs, breathing deeply. But when she reached the huge emptiness of the corridor, it hit her – she didn't have anyone to run to here. Her pack was still a continent away, as was her family. And, as it was the middle of the night in California, she couldn't even call anyone. Waves of loneliness crashing through her body, tears began to fall. Breaking into a run, she prayed that her instincts would lead her out of the castle.

* * *

"Severus, that was entirely uncalled for. I am disappointed in you." 

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes at Albus' tone. "Angry and patronizing at the same time, Albus; that's quite an accomplishment."

Albus stood and walked to the window and looked out over the grounds. "This is not funny, Severus. Not in the slightest. That girl needs you, needs the both of us right now more than she knows." Albus turned to look directly in Severus' eyes. His eyes had lost their customary twinkle; steely resolve had replaced it. "Fix it, Severus. _You_ will be working more closely with Rachel than anyone else on staff."

Severus walked over to the window and stood beside Albus. "Frankly, I do not know if I would even be able to 'fix it', and I certainly have no desire to do so. Why don't you ask Vector?"

"Professor Vector, of course, is kin to Rachel's people as well; to her own tribe, I believe. But Professor Vector has very little experience with Defense Against the Dark Arts and at any rate is not here, nor is she is a member of the Order. No Severus, _you _will work with her."

Severus' mind was whirling. Rage, fear and confusion all fought for dominance…and at the moment confusion was winning. "Albus, what makes you so certain that she needs us?"

Albus was once more looking out the window, and he looked as though he was waiting for something. The silence stretched on for what seemed an eternity, but may have only been a minute or two.

Just as Severus gave up on ever having his question answered, Albus pointed a finger out the window. "That."

Severus looked out to see Rachel running, full speed, across the grounds. As he watched, she tripped over something and went sprawling. She lay unmoving for a few moments, then rolled onto her side and curled herself into a little ball.

"Look more closely," Albus stated, pulling a pair of omnoculars from his voluminous robes and handing them over.

Severus obligingly looked through the omnoculars. She had been crying, and seemed to be trying to catch her breath. She looked miserable, frightened and lost…and so very young. A light bulb clicked on in Severus' brain. "Albus, how old is she?"

"Her twenty-first birthday was just last week," Albus informed him.

Lovely, Severus thought, he'd been frightened of a girl who was little more than a child.

"But this has nothing to do with her age," Albus continued, still looking out the window. "Think of what had happened by your twenty-first birthday; you had just joined the Order, had you not?"

Severus silently thanked Albus for not actually stating that he'd been a Death Eater for nearly three years. And Albus might not be concerned about her age at the moment, but Severus was certain he _would _be once the castle was filled with hormonal teenage boys. That, he thought, might actually be mildly entertaining. But these thoughts were not helpful at the moment. "So, what is the problem? Why is our new instructor curled into the fetal position?"

"In the past four years, she has not spent more than two or three days at a time without some sort of evil to fight, and those days were generally spent planning their next attack, or lining up new projects, as one of Rachel's packmates informs me. She sounded quite concerned, as she thinks Rachel has stayed so busy to avoid dealing with past trauma. That should sound familiar, eh Severus?" Albus asked, arching an eyebrow in Severus' direction.

Severus merely rolled his eyes and motioned for him to continue.

Casting him a mildly disapproving look, Albus obliged. "Aside from that, she has not spent much, if any, time alone in those four years. Garou, as a rule, are not solitary creatures, and Rachel is no exception. Frankly, with all the other upheavals in her life, loneliness is simply not something she can cope with."

"If this is so difficult for her, why did she accept the job? And, while we are on the subject, is there in fact _any_ way in which offering a muggle fighting class is not insane? Not only will Pomfrey have an aneurysm at the news, such a class will certainly attract Voldemort's attention. You _do _realize that I will have to inform him of this? My loyalty would certainly be called into question if I did not," Severus reasoned.

"Of course, of course. The answer to your first question is quite simple – she believes she is needed. She knows that most Garou dislike and distrust wizards, and that very few would be willing to help us. I've no doubt that most would find it amusing to merely sit back and watch as our own prejudices destroyed us." Albus paused, giving Severus time to consider the point.

"Now, as for Voldemort. I've no doubt he will be very angry when he inevitably hears of a _required _muggle course at Hogwarts. But, I believe Rachel's bloodline will interest him far more. The Ayanamis are one of Japan's oldest wizarding families, and her mother, Madeline, is descended from the Weasleys _and _the Kings."

Severus started. "Her mother is Madeline King?" he asked sharply.

"King-Ayanami, actually, with a hyphen. But yes. Didn't she hold an advanced Potions seminar here during your seventh year?" Albus asked, his tone innocent.

Of course she did, Severus thought, but Albus had already known that. He k_new _that Rachel was the daughter of one of the few decent people who'd ever been kind to 'the greasy git', that she'd been one brief, shining spark of light and hope in an otherwise hellish part of his life. _Knew _that Rachel's mother was the woman who'd called Sirius Black an 'arrogant twit'.

Severus idly wondered if it would _really _be wrong, given the situation, to pound Albus' head against the wall for a few minutes. "This information would have been much more useful _before _I met her."

"So that you could trade one set of prejudices for another, Severus?" Albus shook his head disapprovingly. "Perhaps you could use this experience to learn and grow?"

God, no one could _possibly _blame him for pounding the Headmaster's head against the wall until he saw double, Severus thought. He closed his eyes to try to control the desire to make Albus bleed.

"I believe I'll just leave you alone to think," Albus whispered as he crept from the room.

For perhaps the hundredth time, Severus wondered how such a manipulative bugger was ever sorted into Gryffindor.


	8. Learn and Grow

He was uncertain how long he stood by the window, lost in memories and regrets, but when he finally came to himself, Rachel was no longer curled up on the lawn. He looked over the grounds, hoping to spot her. He thought it best to apologize soon, and hoped that enough time had passed so that she would not think that Albus had simply ordered him to tell her that he was sorry.

And, Severus thought, if he didn't apologize soon, he might well lose his nerve. Finally, he spotted a lone figure walking by the lake and, taking a deep, steadying breath, began to make his way in that direction.

Though the thought did not halt his approach, he'd a terrible feeling that he was about to make a complete arse of himself. He had no clue how to go about this apology business. At the moment, the only thing he could think of to say was, 'Erm, sorry…thought you were planning to sexually assault me. It seems I may have been incorrect.'

Despite his limited practical experience, Severus _did _at least know that it was generally considered unwise to apologize to a woman, offend her, and make her think you were barking mad all at once.

All too soon, he located her. She was sitting right at the edge of the lake. He crept silently toward her, stopping about 20 feet away. She sat cross-legged with her chin resting in the palm of her hand. Her other hand was lazily tracing circles in the water. Severus took a few moments to really study her. He couldn't see much of her mother in Rachel's face. Last night, though, her eyes had held the very same warmth, compassion and humor that her mother's had held so many years ago.

Severus let his gaze wander over her clothing, wondering if she had intentionally dressed in Slytherin colors. Well, her blouse wasn't really the right shade of green, but the necklace was very…_dammit_! Even at a distance, Severus knew when he was looking at pure silver.

He had _truly_ misread her intentions. He'd assumed that she'd simply been trying to look attractive, and _succeeding brilliantly_, his brain helpfully supplied. But she'd walked into that office wearing jewelry that would cause her serious injury if she changed forms. She must have been trying to put him at ease, assure him that she didn't want to him to feel intimidated. He silently cursed himself for being such a bloody bastard, for though he was loath to admit it, prejudice _had_ blinded him to the truth.

Perhaps he'd not been entirely silent, Severus realized, for Rachel sat up straight and turned red-rimmed eyes in his direction. Well, that put an end to the stalling, he thought. He closed the distance between them as Rachel unfolded herself and stood up.

"Miss Ayanami, I wish to apologize. My behavior this morning was most inappropriate."

Rachel nodded, though there was still something fragile about in her stance, and whispered, "Yes it was." She dropped her head for a moment, and when she raised it again, her eyes were wary. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he replied. Now she'd ask him if Albus had sent him out…

"Which tribe are you related to?"

His sharp intake of breath undoubtedly told her that such a question had not been anticipated. Nevertheless, Severus looked her in the eye and replied. "The Shadow Lords."

Rachel winced, then nodded. "I forgive you, and I understand."

She understood? Was that pity? He searched the hazel depths of her eyes, but found only compassion and sadness. "You remind me very much of your mother," he said, unable to stop the words from escaping.

"I…what?"

Well, he thought, it was too late to take that back, but perhaps the slip-up could work to his advantage. "After you excused yourself, Albus mentioned your mother's name. She led an Advanced Potions seminar during my seventh year. She was…a kind person."

The explanation earned him a sweet smile, then a look of comprehension. Good, he'd hoped he wouldn't be forced to spell out his apology for misunderstanding her intentions.

"Yeah, she _is_ quite a lady. So, when do you want to start tackling the forest? And would you mind if we began with a quick pass through so I can get a feel for where the real problem areas are?"

Rachel's professional manner chased away the last of Severus' worries, and he decided to attempt to be pleasant. "That would be acceptable, and I am free for the remainder of the day."

"Well, I'd like to grab a couple of weapons from my room, just in case, then I'll be ready."

"Mmm, I will procure a few potions, as you say, just in case." Though he said nothing, Severus thought it odd that she wished to carry weapons, as she could easily shift into her war-form…Crinos, he believed it was called, should anything attack them. Most, if not all of the dark creatures in the forest would run in terror were they faced with a giant wolf-man creature with 2 inch claws and a mouthful of sharp teeth.

"You're probably wondering why I need weapons when I'm already a walking Cuisinart."

"Cuisinart?"

"Oh, sorry, 'muggle' thing. Food processor, lots of blades, slices and dices things into little bitty pieces. _I'd _be wondering if I were you, at least."

Well, as long as he was trying to get along with her, he may as well admit it. "Yes, it crossed my mind."

"Well, I generally prefer to remain in homid form unless I _have _to change to something tougher. And there's no need for the creatures in the forest to know what they're up against so soon. Albus also said that most of the creatures should be captured alive, and while absolutely the form of choice for reducing your enemies to tiny bits, Crinos lacks the subtlety and grace generally required for taking them alive. And besides, do you have any idea how difficult it is to speak English when your head's all wolf-shaped?"

Rachel paused to let that sink in. "I can speak the Garou language of course, and there are translation spells, but I can guarantee that any you know will work only on human languages. So, we also lose communication if I shift to Crinos."

"All excellent points. Might I recommend, however, that you leave the hazardous neckwear behind, just as a precaution for unforeseen emergencies?"

Rachel's hand went to her throat, and she grinned wryly. "I was going for a not-intimidating sort of look. In hindsight, though, it would apparently have gone better if I'd just walked in and announced that the Shadow Lords are a bunch of evil, psychotic bastards."

Severus couldn't help it, he grinned. It could have been worse – he'd nearly chuckled. "Indeed, it might well _have_."

Rachel's eyes went wide when he grinned, and she looked as though she'd just solved a particularly frustrating problem. "I'm so stupid!" she exclaimed. "You usually use charms to alter your appearance, don't you?"

Severus was shocked, to say the least. "Are telling me that you only _just_ realized?"

"What? I only met you yesterday. I'd assumed that you looked better because you got a good night's sleep and you weren't in pain any more. And it's not like you look like a whole new person. I mean, your skin tone looks better, but you're still as pale as _I _am, and that's saying something. Your hair's clean, but you're still in _dire_ need of a stylist. Your teeth, though, Ron just couldn't shut up about how…" Rachel trailed off. A moment later she continued, her tone matter-of-fact. "You know what, _I'm_ gonna stop talking now."

It took Severus every ounce of willpower he possessed not to laugh at the mortified look on Rachel's reddening face. She was hardly the first person to suggest that he needed his hair cut. Her embarrassment, though, was likely due to her mention of Weasley.

The thought of her time with the Weasleys piqued his curiosity. "Yes, I assume Mr. Weasley had a great deal to say about…my teeth. I must say, as you have apparently spent time in his company, I am surprised that you've not begun shouting at me yet."

Severus was amazed when instead of embarrassed, Rachel looked shocked and hurt.

"Why, because you're so nasty to Harry 'action-before-thought' Potter?" Rachel closed her eyes, rubbing the space between them. "Sounds like a decent enough kid, don't get me wrong, but at the same time…God, he sounds like a nightmare," she muttered.

Rachel shook her head and opened her eyes. At Severus' dumbfounded look, she continued. "What, you thought I'd trust a _teenager's_ opinion of an adult? As I'm sure you expect, Ron told me that you are an unimaginable bastard, but he _also_ told me about how wonderful he thinks Hagrid is, and then went on to regale me with stories of his _shockingly_ irresponsible, not to mention profoundly stupid, behavior. Now, don't get me wrong, Hagrid sounds like a nice man, but what kind of idiot allows 13 year old _children_ within 20 yards of a single Hippogriff, let alone within biting distance of a flock of the damned things! If _I'd _had anything to say about it, he'd have been fired so fast his head would have spun. Honestly, a teacher should really have more than two brain cells to rub together. And," she said, pointing a finger at Severus, "don't even get me started about that a-hole Sirius Black! I mean, _hello_, could Harry have a _worse_ role model than a jackass with Peter Pan syndrome and an apparent **_degree_** in action-before-thought?"

Well, Severus thought, _now _she's yelling. Weasley's cousin ranting about Hagrid being an irresponsible moron, which was a harsher description than even _he'd _have used, and subsequent slur against Black was finally just too much to take. For the first time in well over a decade, Severus Snape doubled over laughing.

He was unsure how long he laughed; judging by the soreness in his face, it was a fair amount of time. When he finally pulled himself together, he caught Rachel's eye and said, "You're hardly the first to come to such an opinion about Black, though I believe '_arrogant twit_' was your mother's description of choice."

"Yeah, that sounds like her. I can't wait to talk to her tonight, " Rachel replied, giggling.

* * *

The next few weeks were a blur of activity for Rachel. 

She spoke with her mother at length, ironing out details. Her mother decided the girls could attend Hogwarts, as Rachel would be there to protect them, but had insisted that they arrive in England early. If they were to be attending Hogwarts, Mrs. Ayanami demanded that her girls be prepared. It had been worked out with Albus, and Darcy and Leah would spend the last three weeks of the summer at Order headquarters, learning what they could about Voldemort and the current political situation.

Mrs. Ayanami had also been delighted to hear that Severus Snape would be teaching her daughters, gushing that she had never seen a greater talent for Potions before or since. She also had a few choice things to say about Sirius Black, which pretty much mirrored what Severus had said about him. Rachel really wasn't looking forward to meeting the guy…and at the same time had a nagging suspicion that Pascale was going to fall all over him.

Rachel spoke with Aton, Pascale and John almost daily by floo, email or phone, and as it appeared that Pascale _did _like Sirius, Rachel held her tongue about him. And Aton sent Rachel a completed 'wand' by owl post (Maple, 11 inches, with a core of magpie spirit) along with a note that suggested she leave the fetish-making to the people who didn't irritate every spirit they tried to communicate with. Though she tried to feel indignant about the slight, Rachel just couldn't manage it. Aside from technological spirits, which she really had a way with, Aton really wasn't wrong.

And Severus… It had been so long since she really got to know someone new. For the past four years, her social circle had consisted of family, her pack, and a couple of close friends. Though she had many acquaintances, she simply hadn't allowed herself to get attached to anyone new in a long while.

Getting to know him had been exhilarating. Though Ron's assertion that Severus hated everyone had proved incorrect, Rachel had no difficulty seeing where people could come to that conclusion. He generally had more negative than positive to say about any given person, the only exceptions being people he didn't know well. After a while, though, Rachel began to recognize the difference between the casual digs against those he cared about and the verbal bashing of those he despised.

Learning to read him was another thing altogether. She only managed to surprise him into reacting to her for a few days; after that his control came back with a vengeance.

Over the course of the following weeks, Rachel applied herself to learning the clues that would give him away – subtle facial ticks, changes in his posture or breathing pattern, etc. Creating a database, she catalogued all her findings, and dedicated the first hour of every day to analyzing the data. While working on the project, Rachel found herself immensely grateful that Pascale wasn't around, as she really didn't want to have to listen to the 'Rachel, you really need to deal with your neuroses and obsessive personality' lecture again. Pascale could lecture all she wanted, but Rachel almost had him figured out.

Severus was quite witty and surprisingly funny as well. His wit was rather mocking, but no more so than Pascale's. And though he _did_ tend make her blush, Severus, unlike Pascale, wasn't the biggest pervert ever to walk the earth.

Rather, he was intensely cerebral. Not only was he a walking library with regards to Potions and D.A.D.A., he seemed to be rather knowledgeable about just about everything else…unless the topic of discussion strayed from the wizarding world. _Then_ he was totally clueless. But Rachel was getting a feeling that the head in the sand thing was pretty indicative of a societal norm.

That being the case, Rachel started working on a plan to bring at least _some _American normalcy to Hogwarts, as she knew that poor Darcy would lose her mind trapped without movies or television for ten months. Yeah, it was _totally _altruistic…in no way about herself.

A perfect space presented itself when Albus asked her where she wanted her office to be located. As she had no desire to _have _an office, but would find the space useful, she told him she wanted it to be accessible from inside her dojo. From there, the planning stage began. With her parents' help, Rachel was able to acquire everything she needed to create the perfect sanctuary from culture shock. She kept what she was doing to herself, as she wanted to surprise Severus with the finished product…even if he hated it.

The rest of Rachel's energy had been going to practicing her fake wand movements and to the 'forest', or park, as she had taken to calling it after she realized how small it really was. They were almost finished with it anyway; it had really been too easy to take care of. Well, the centaurs had been a bit of an adventure, but that was expected. Everything else had so far been too easy to catch, cage, and relocate. Their only sticking point had been the Acromantulas.

Albus wanted them removed alive, and relocated somewhere like everything else. Both Rachel and Severus had thought the request insane. It was simply not feasible; there were just too many of them and they positively _reeked_ of the Wyrm. And so Rachel had begun to teach Severus to use a sword, as her preliminary research suggested that the largest of the spiders would be nearly impossible to kill with spells or poisons. She figured that, in another couple of weeks, Severus would feel comfortable enough with the sword that they could attack. So, all they had to do was convince Albus that killing them was for the best by that time.

Unfortunately, it wasn't working. Not the convincing Albus bit, that was coming along, s_lowly_, but it was progressing nicely toward a cave-in on the Albus front. Rachel hoped he'd cave soon, though, as she was getting very nearly _desperate _for a real life-threatening battle. Keeping herself in check was getting steadily more difficult. And she was getting more than a little frustrated in other ways too, as it was Rachel's attempt to distract herself from her attraction to Severus that wasn't working. If anything, the way she was exhausting herself was making her more vulnerable.

The dark, velvety richness of his voice still nearly made her eyes roll back, her knees weak, and set butterflies to wildly moshing in her stomach. The whole Goth look still really worked for her, and the effortless grace with which he moved was still far too distracting. Not to mention the fact that she just couldn't stop blushing, and she really had thought that being subjected to Pascale's filthy mind for four years had completely obliterated her ability to do so. And they just seemed to _click_. She felt just like she had back in high school when she and Shaun were in their flirty stage.

She really was about to just give up the whole plan, but the idea of making a move and being rejected was gut-wrenching. On the other hand, she could make a move, have her feelings reciprocated, start a relationship, fall in love, find contentment at last…only to screw it all up and lose him…or watch him die, or one of the hundred other disasters she feared. The fear of making a mistake, of getting hurt, of really letting him in, of letting him see the Rage that lurked behind her carefully controlled facade…Rachel was terrified of all of it. But she was equally afraid of never trying at all.

All in all, she was desperately in need of girl talk, and as her sisters were going to arrive at Grimmauld Place very soon, she was going to get to go there and see them, and while she was there, she'd finally get to sit down and talk to Pascale, who excelled at the girl talk thing.

* * *

Severus learned quickly that hearing stories about the Garou in his childhood in no way prepared him for getting to know one. Though their forays into the forest had proven that she was a predator, a sexual predator was what he'd been expecting, and her propensity to blush (which he was beginning to truly enjoy. It was, God help him, _cute_) made the very idea ludicrous. 

But his _first _real lesson about the Garou occurred when she'd asked him for advice about a 'fetish'. His immediate reaction had been to clear his throat and recommend a discreet shop in Hogsmeade. Wide-eyed with shock, she'd launched into a broken explanation. A fetish was a Garou magic item. A spirit of some sort was bound to the object, and said object would have a power corresponding to the spirit. A magpie spirit, for example, was bound into the 'wand' Rachel's packmate sent her. As magpies were thieving birds, Rachel would be able to use the wand to mimic a summoning charm.

She had then gone on to explain that she needed help figuring out if any of her 'Gifts' matched descriptions of any spells he could think of, as she didn't want to be limited to a single spell.

While Severus had some knowledge of these powers, as his mother had told him about those she knew of, he had assumed they were learned much the same way a wizard learned spells. Discovering that spirits, actual _spirits_, taught them, and that the spirits would only teach their Gifts to a specific tribe, or auspice, or breed, with few exceptions, was fascinating.

Her own Gifts were…well, some were interesting; one was downright terrifying. She could heal with a simple touch, of course, but she could also sense lies and ignore pain if she was injured. She had joked that it was a great way to stay in a fight long enough to get killed. She could also change any of her senses to those of muggle machines – her favorite was to give her own eyes a 'zoom lens'.

Also, by simply staring into someone's eyes, she could make the person _or_ animal flee in terror. Severus almost envied her _that _particular ability, but only almost, as he did at least possess the ability to make students flee in terror simply by showing up.

The one that was terrifying, in more ways than one, was a Gift she called 'Doppelganger'. Its effects were reminiscent of the Polyjuice Potion, but far more effective and efficient. With little effort, Rachel could become _anyone_. If she used the Gift, her appearance, voice, body language, even _scent _would be identical to the individual being copied. And the effects could last for several days at a time. All she needed to know to be entirely convincing was the individual's general speech patterns. It was frightening enough to know that Rachel could do such a thing, but knowing that any Garou with the same Gift could as well was very unnerving. Her assurance that few others shared the Gift, as only Glass Walkers with a rank of Athro or Elder could even learn it, was of little comfort.

Then there was the matter of the forest. Very little was accomplished their first day out, as Rachel mainly spent the afternoon making snide remarks. 'You call _this _a forest?' she'd asked him. 'You can't call it a _forest _if you can already see where it ends from where it starts. This is barely a _park_.' He'd argued, but she'd shrugged and said, 'Hey, just don't expect me to be impressed. California has more _forest_ than you have _country_.'

They worked in the forest, or 'park', as Rachel took to calling it, without incident for the first week. She'd shifted to her wolf form a couple of times to track and catch small or fast-moving creatures, but nothing was putting up much of a fight. A week in, though, they ran across the centaurs.

Predictably, the centaurs had ordered them out, insisting that they immediately cease their meddling, as they were damaging the delicate balance of something or other, blah, blah, blah… He'd forgotten it as quickly as the centaur said it, but would never forget what happened next.

_A low, inhuman growl filled the clearing, silencing the droning centaur. Rachel, already shifting forms, stepped forward. Three paces later, she was in Crinos. She raised one enormous hand, extended one clawed finger, and then pointed toward her own enormous muzzle. In a deep, guttural voice, she ground out two words. "**Not human**."_

_She then changed back to homid. "Any questions?"_

_After a few moments' pause, the same centaur that ordered them out of the forest spoke up once more, in a much softer tone. "Apologies, my lady. We meant no disrespect. The Garou are an ancient, noble, and honorable people. But I fail to understand your presence here. Your people have no more love for these creatures than do mine. Terrible are the deeds that wizards have done to your kind. It is their own mistakes that have led them to the very brink of their destruction, and yet you offer them aid? Why do you, a warrior of Gaia, waste your time and energy helping these low creatures?"_

_Anger flashed in Rachel's eyes, but she tamped it down, holding her head high and proud. "Because they asked for it. Ridding the forest of dark creatures, protecting the children from Voldemort, as I can only assume that's what you meant by 'the brink of their destruction', these are things that need to be done. And I have accepted the responsibility. Frankly, I don't give a damn whose mistake led to what problem or whose ancestors did what to mine. Those things have no bearing on my life._

"_The past is but a tool. You learn from it; it teaches you to avoid the mistakes of your forbears. But you never judge a society's present from its past, any more than you would judge an adult by the foolish mistakes of youth. Nor do you sit back and allow a sociopath to commit genocide simply because his own society taught him to hate._

"_Know this. I have no quarrel with you, as this forest, while it belongs to no one, is rightfully your home. But speak no more to me of meddling here, or of upsetting the balance of the forest. And do not cross my path again; I do not suffer bigots. I will take my leave of you now."_

_She turned and swept regally from the clearing._

Severus grinned at the memory. She'd admitted later that day that she knew they'd run into the centaurs sooner or later and had read up on them, and had prepared a speech for the eventual encounter. She'd also explained that, as alpha of a pack that traveled the globe coming up with creative solutions for difficult problems, she had a great deal of experience with that sort of thing. Meaning that, most of the time, the established leaders of whatever city or forest they were in behaved much like the centaurs – they believed in ancient ways, held grudges for centuries, and held those who disagreed with said ancient ways in disdain.

Rachel had discovered quickly that she had to, at the very least, learn how to speak 'Pompous', or they would see her as no more than a foolish child. Before long, her method of choice in dealing with leaders was to make them look and feel just stupid enough that they'd leave her and her pack alone, but not so stupid as to earn their wrath. With few exceptions, which she refused to go into, it had worked quite effectively.

Rachel had begun researching the Acromantulas that same day. A few days later, she'd come to the conclusion he had already reached – killing them was the only possible option. And she had been delighted (she had the sweetest smile) when he agreed to help her plan the attack. It took only two days to plan – part one, release a poison that would kill all but the largest hundred or so of them, part two, use a combination of spell and claw to destroy most of the remainder, and part three, hand to, erm, _leg_ combat against the few that were too large to be affected by magic. And to that end, Rachel began to teach Severus to use a sword.

He wasn't wild about that portion of the plan, but, short of the Unforgivables, Severus was unaware of any spells that would be effective against Aragog and the largest of his descendents. And Rachel had reassured him that all he really needed was to get comfortable holding and swinging it, as he wasn't going to be attacking trained swordsmen, but stabbing and slashing at spiders. She proved to be an adept, if distracting, teacher. It was not easy to focus on swordplay when your instructor was beautiful, moved with an effortless grace, and wore clothing that left very little to the imagination. Only Severus' decades of experience holding his emotions in check kept him from making a fool of himself.

At any rate, his greatest shock was that Rachel was usually a very calm individual. He _had_ expected her to be quite emotional, given her breakdown after their initial meeting. That she was not often angry was especially surprising, for he'd heard more than one story about the Rage that could reduce a Garou to little more than a snarling, murderous beast, and he'd told her so. To his surprise, she'd been adamant that such a thing was possible, reminding him often that he should always be ready to hex her unconscious and/or immobile if she ever lost control. Only after the incident with the centaurs had Severus truly understood why she was so insistent. After all, watching Rachel shift to Crinos was quite different from knowing, in theory, what it was like.

Still, she had yet to so much as lose her temper, let alone her control. He knew that she was restraining herself, though, especially in the forest. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes and by how nervous she seemed of late, the tension was taking a toll. She'd been exhausted enough during their last training session that, using a move she should have easily blocked, Severus had accidentally sliced her arm before he could stop his sword's arc. She'd brushed off his concern, as the cut healed almost instantly, but he'd still refused to continue the lesson, and ordered her to get a good night's sleep. It was a testament to how tired she was that she'd agreed to his demand with almost no fuss.

He wanted to ask Albus to speak with her about it, but knew without even asking that Albus would recommend that he handle it himself. The concern that Severus felt for Rachel's well-being…well, it was not a particularly comfortable feeling. It disturbed him even more than the ever-increasing attraction he felt toward her. _That_, at least, he could brush aside as a natural reaction to a beautiful woman. But concern, worry, those were feelings he rarely experienced. He rarely felt concern even for Albus, who was truly his closest friend.

It was damned confusing, too. After all, she was a magical creature, a powerful one at that; she might find his worry insulting. But he couldn't stop thinking about the Acromantulas. The battle would happen soon; Severus was certain that Albus would cave within the week. And while Garou could heal mundane injuries almost instantly, other magical creatures would cause them more serious injuries. _They_ could actually kill her. And Severus feared that, unless Rachel began to take better care of herself, they might _manage_ it.


	9. New Arrivals

It was the morning of her sisters' arrival, and Severus and Rachel were 'hanging out' in her dojo, waiting for Albus to show up. Harry Potter had been attacked by dementors three days earlier, and Albus had been insanely busy trying to sort it out. Rachel had been worried about Harry; she thought he sounded reckless, but that only served to make her feel more concerned for him. She hoped he wouldn't do something desperately stupid.

Severus had visited Lucius Malfoy and a few other Death Eaters, and had ascertained that it was likely that Voldemort had little to do with what had happened. He had, in fact, learned that Voldemort had a new plan. He refused to elaborate; he didn't want to explain more than once, so he would be telling the entire Order as soon as they arrived at Grimmauld Place.

Rachel, though curious, worried, and feeling like it would be fun to rip Minister Fudge a new asshole, literally, had been trying to keep the mood light, as there was really nothing they could do at the moment.

"So, I've been thinking," Rachel began.

"Sounds dangerous," Severus replied.

"Mm…funny," she said dryly.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I am _ever _the comedian."

Rachel snorted. "Anyway, I don't really think we're clearing out the park because it's dangerously overrun with monsters. I'd be surprised if Albus couldn't easily take care of most of it himself. He just wanted us to spend time together, yeah?"

"Obviously, though not, I suppose, to you, as you are unaware that much of the menace of the _forest_ is the result of a rather complex series of charms and wards," Severus replied matter-of-factly.

Annoyed, Rachel asked the first question that came to mind, "And I'm just hearing this now why?"

But Severus continued as though she'd never spoken. "Only when school is in session, though, as it keeps most curious students from running afoul of the centaurs and the Acromantulas. And, frankly, we needed Hagrid gone to deal with the spiders properly."

Rachel opened her mouth again, but Severus quickly continued. "You're right, of course. Albus could clear the forest himself if he so desired, but his time is best spent elsewhere. The Order keeps him quite busy, especially of late. And, as my own involvement must be kept secret, I've had a deplorable excess of free time. And besides, in these past few weeks I believe I have learned a few things about you…primarily that you would not trust that the forest had been cleared properly if you were not personally involved."

"About the Acromantulas," Rachel broke in, "Do you know if Albus has gotten any closer to a decision? We only have three more weeks until the kids get here. I'd rather not leave something that could go so wrong, in so many different ways, to the last minute."

"Yes, I quite agree, as you well know. I did speak with him about it just before the latest drama, and Albus promised that we will have his decision by the end of next week. He is more than a bit worried about how Hagrid would react. But however we dispose of them, Hagrid will undoubtedly be furious."

Rachel was silent for a few minutes. "Still wish you'd told me," she finally muttered.

"Yes, I know. But you forgive me, of course."

"Jerk," she replied cheekily.

"About time you noticed," Severus drawled.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each absorbed in private thought. Severus turned his head to study her, but caught Rachel watching him instead. He'd caught her doing so quite frequently over the past week or so. It was unnerving.

"Hey, are you wondering where Albus is? _I _sure am. You know, I think I'm gonna just pop over to his office and see what's taking him so long. I'll be back in a minute," Rachel managed in one breath. Blushing, she fled.

As she left, Severus vocalized his confusion to the empty classroom. "What on earth possesses her to watch me like that?"

A moment later, he heard a small voice say "Psst!" Severus looked around for the source of the noise; he thought perhaps it was a house elf, but he could find nothing. A moment later, he heard the noise again, but still could not find the source. A few seconds later, a much louder voice piped up, "Stop your job, look at the insensitive man!"

Severus sighed, turned toward Rachel's desk, and stalked over to the computer. "What is it?" Almost immediately after Severus was 'introduced' to the ghost in Rachel's machine, 'Robert' began to display a fondness for annoying him, usually by blaring 'movie quotes' at him. It insisted that turnabout was fair play, and that Severus should be prepared to pay the consequences for causing _his _Rachel emotional distress. He was truly growing to hate the machine.

The words, '**I know why, I KNOW WHY!**' were written on the screen. After a moment, the words disappeared and a new message was typed. '**Frankly, it's about as plain as the nose on your face, and _that _monstrosity's pretty darn hard to miss. Of course, if you ever saw the inside of Rachel's office, I'm sure even _you _would be able to figure it out. Wanna know the password?**'

There was an almost tangible air of smugness about the machine as it waited for a response.

"She said she had no office," Severus muttered, mostly to himself.

'**She's dubbed it the Sisters' Sanctuary. But it's where her office would be, were she using it as such. It's… Wanna know? ;-)**'

Of course I want to know _now_, Severus thought. He would certainly not give in and ask, though. The blasted machine probably wanted him to ask for the password so it could then curse him as a 'betrayer of his Rachel's trust' or some such nonsense. Severus was seriously considering having words with Rachel about the rather disturbingly possessive nature of her computer.

Thoughts still whirling round his head, Albus walked in with Rachel in tow. Severus felt intense satisfaction in shutting the machine with only _slightly _more force than was necessary. Knowing that, aside from the forest, Rachel went nowhere without her laptop, Severus picked it up, and carried it to her. "Leaving at last, are we?"

"Yes," Albus replied. Severus noted that his expression was rather serious.

"What is it, Albus?"

"The plan is set. Several members of the Order will be escorting Harry to Grimmauld Place this evening. I am certain he will arrive safely; I am merely feeling a bit tired. Shall we depart?" Albus held out the Portkey, a very odd hat with a propeller affixed to it, Rachel and Severus both touched it, and a few moments later they all disappeared.

* * *

"Explain it again. Why are we picking your sisters up at the airport?" 

''Cause this is where the planes land. I don't know why you're having such a hard time grasping so simple a concept."

Severus clenched his teeth, biting back a scathing remark. There was no point starting an argument; he'd sodding well walked into that. "I am _aware_ of the purpose of an airport. Why did your sisters travel the muggle way?"

"Umm, when did I ever say they were coming the 'muggle' way? You've heard of the Arrow line, haven't you? Sure, _I _didn't fly on it, as, like the Knight Bus, the Arrow is really not for everyone. It _does _cut your travel time short, but it can make you feel pretty queasy. I was on it once when I was about 12…never again. But Darcy and Leah both like it, and it's easier for them to go through Customs this way. It means we don't have to make a side trip to the Ministry of Magic, and that's one place I'll be more than happy to avoid. Oh, you got that note from Albus before he apparated, right?"

"Ugh, I'd forgotten about the blasted Arrow. Or perhaps I'd blocked _out _the memory of that dread contraption. And of course I got the note." Severus silently added, _after _he transfigured my robes so I would 'blend in.' As if the man that had wandered off wearing their Portkey on his head, along with his usual robes, knew anything whatsoever about blending in.

"Are you certain my robes would not have garnered less attention than this ill-fitting coat?"

"Nah, the robes would have looked weird. Besides, you look pretty sharp in a trenchcoat, and it's _supposed _to fit like that. You're just cranky because Albus charmed it so it won't button."

Severus raised an eyebrow. He was expending a considerable amount of effort to affect a calm, relaxed pose. And yet Rachel dubbed him 'cranky.' She'd shown an alarming ability to gauge his mood with considerable accuracy of late.

But as much as she _had _figured out about him, at least she did not appear to understand the workings of his mind. Truly, his irritability had little to do with his state of dress, unpleasant as it was. He was simply not used to venturing into the muggle world at _all_, so hanging about a crowded airport left him feeling uncomfortable and self-conscious.

It did not help that Rachel had begged, pleaded and cajoled until he agreed not to alter his personal appearance. She'd promised to shut up about it if he would just explain why he did it in the first place, but he'd flatly refused to do so. He'd grown, over the years, so used to his disguise that it was practically an article of clothing. Without it, he felt quite exposed. And to make Rachel understand _that_, he'd have to explain about his childhood. He had not discussed his childhood with another living soul, and still had no wish to do so.

"There they are!" Rachel exclaimed. She started waving her hand in the air. "Darcy, Leah!"

A tall girl with long, honey blonde hair waved back and called out, "Raych!" Her other hand was on her sister's shoulder. The tiny, dark-haired girl glanced up from her book, raised her hand briefly in greeting, adjusted her glasses, and buried her head once more in her book.

As the girls approached, Severus noted that the older girl was almost a mirror image of her mother. As the walkway cleared in front of her for a few moments, Severus' eyes widened in horror. "Rachel, does your mother know that your sister dresses like that?" She wore what, at first glance, appeared to be a school uniform, sans robes. She wore a pleated skirt and a white oxford shirt, but it was tailored to be form-fitting, and the skirt was so short that he felt a strong impulse to rip off his coat, cover her with it, immediately contact her parents and demand an explanation.

"What, you mean the Alicia Silverstone look? Oh, sorry, pop culture reference. Um, I think the, uh," Rachel paused and gestured at Darcy's outfit as it came back into view, "naughty Catholic schoolgirl look's still pretty popular. Though I don't think Mom knows that Darcy hitches her skirts up until she's about a millimeter away from flashing her underwear. It _does _make me really glad that Mom won't let her wear thongs. So it could be worse."

"Thongs?"

"Oh, um, I think I'd best explain that, uh, later."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the apparent brush-off, but nodded and turned his attention to the smaller of the two just as the girls reached them. She was mercifully dressed in loose pants and an oversized jumper. Her hair was neatly plaited, but he could see nothing of her face, as her head was still buried in her book.

Severus backed up a few paces to give the girls a bit of privacy as Darcy and Rachel hugged and exchanged greetings.

"It's so good to see you guys! I've missed you."

"Aw, I missed you too, sweets. We didn't get to spend much time with you when you were home. Of course, we _thought_ you were coming right back. Right, Leah?"

A sheepish look on her face, Leah finally pulled her head out of her book. "Yeah, who would've guessed things would work out like this? You're finally going to be in one place long enough to teach me Judo. And I get school credit for it, no less."

"True. I finally get to keep that promise I made to you."

Darcy looked Rachel over, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Raych, are you alright, hon? You look tired."

"I'm fine, really. I've just been a little busy. And, hey, isn't that the kinda thing the _big _sister's supposed to ask?"

"Well, I _am _taller than you."

"That's just because Mom and Dad inject you with growth hormones, you mutated _freak_!"

Perhaps it was because he was an only child, but Severus could not understand why that statement elicited giggling…and more hugging.

Rachel then turned her attention back to Leah. "So, Brain, how's that plan for world domination coming?"

Leah patted her book and grinned at her sister. In an odd voice, she said, "This text has been most helpful. Pinky and I will be ready this evening as scheduled. By this time tomorrow, the world will be ours. Ha! Ha! HA!"

"Narf!" Darcy exclaimed, also in a strange, affected voice, "We'll succeed _this _time, Brain, for sure."

They all giggled again. As this appeared to be some sort of bizarre inside joke, Severus found himself feeling even more uncomfortable. As the giggles wound down, Darcy finally noticed him, and her eyes grew wide.

"Um, Raych?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Where'd you get the Trent Reznor look-alike? And do they have a Brad Pitt?"

Rachel snorted. "_Terribly_ amusing, hon. Sever…_Professor_, I'm sorry, these are my sisters, Darcy and Leah. Darcy, Leah, this is Professor Snape. He'll be your Potions teacher."

"Oh! Great to meet you, Prof. We've heard great stuff about ya from Mom. You know, best and brightest, yadda, yadda, yadda. I think your being the teacher was what actually cinched the decision to send us to Hogwarts, but since I've only recently learned that Hogwarts doesn't get cable, or even _network _TV," Darcy complained, pausing to glare at Rachel, "I'm not entirely sure whether or not I'm happy about it."

Rachel rolled her eyes and took control of the baggage trolley. "Come on, time to head out. We'll see about getting you some cheese to go with that whine."

Darcy then shifted her attention back to Rachel. "Yeah, yeah, could be worse, I know. At least I'll be _totally_ surrounded by British boys. Cute accents! At least some of them have to be hot too, _right_? But on the down side, English food. Oh, but on the up side, **snow**! Ooh, and Dad kicks ass at adapting mundane stuff to work in all-magical environments. So we got to bring a PC and the Nintendo, at least. Dad's still working on adapting a printer for us, but he thinks he'll get it finished by the time school starts."

They made their way out of the airport, Darcy still talking nearly non-stop…strangely, it seemed the longer she talked, the faster she spoke, which was a feat, as she spoke quickly to begin with. Severus trailed slightly behind, already dreading having the child in his class. And when Darcy caught sight of the queue of taxis, she emitted a squeal of glee that caused him to flinch in pain.

"They're so **_cute_**!" she exclaimed.

Severus felt quite glad, suddenly, that he'd skipped breakfast.

Darcy practically _bounced_ into the cab. Rachel took the seat next to her, and Severus was rather amused by the look of gratitude on Leah's face. When Severus settled in next to Leah, he finally got a good look at the cover of her book: Theoretical Alchemy, by Madeline King.

Rachel asked the driver to take them to No. 11 Grimmauld Place, and the cab was in motion. Darcy was engrossed in the scenery, endlessly commenting on everything they drove past.

After a few minutes of contemplation, Severus broke the silence on his side of the cab. "Might I ask why you are reading such an advanced Potions text?"

Leah looked up at him and shrugged. "I finished all my reading for the 1st year classes, and then read through all of Magical Draughts and Potions and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Pretty interesting, but lacking in the area of theoretical science." She indicated her book, "And that's where Mom comes in. Have you read it?"

Severus inclined his head slightly. "I have read all of your mother's works."

The child's face lit up immediately. Severus found himself pulled into an oddly adult discussion, which ranged from proper preparation of ingredients to Potions research and development, which was the field Leah hoped to work in. Her knowledge was clearly beyond any of the students at Hogwarts. Severus was certain that, if she had any talent at _all_ at the cauldron, she would not learn a thing in his class. He might have to develop a special curriculum for her alone, simply to keep her occupied.

Before he knew it, the taxi was pulling to a stop at No. 11 Grimmauld Place and Darcy was talking to their driver.

"Oh, don't worry. We're just visiting some friends here. I don't think I'd be comfortable staying in such a suck part of town."

Severus bit back a grin. The idea of Darcy stuck at Black's house for the remainder of her summer suddenly seemed quite entertaining. If she were so displeased about the neighborhood, she would surely be horrified by the house itself.

Darcy bounced out to pay the driver as Severus and Rachel took out the girls' luggage. Leah simply got out of the taxi and resumed her reading.

While they worked, Rachel whispered in his ear, "Leah can be scary, huh?"

Severus nodded and whispered back, "I believe that even Hermione Granger will be frightened by that child's mind. She truly is only _eleven_?"

"Yep. She's just alarmingly bright, which, sadly, is also why she doesn't have any friends. Kids her age either don't understand her, or they're freaked out by her. Every now and then, you really have to remind her she's still a kid, or she'll kind of forget."

"That odd exchange the three of you had in the airport? With the strange voices? Was that such a reminder?"

"Oh, yeah, Pinky and the Brain." Rachel chuckled. "It's a muggle cartoon about lab mice bent on world domination. Very silly, and almost impossible to explain if you've never seen it, so I'm not even gonna try." All of the luggage out, Rachel shut the door of the taxi and waved goodbye to the driver.

In a much louder voice, Rachel continued. "So, since we can't stand out here forever, let's go see the idiot, err, _man_, of the house. The note?"

Severus removed Albus' note from his inside pocket and passed it to Darcy. "Each of you, read the note silently to yourself, memorize it, then pass it back to me."

Darcy scrunched up her nose as No. 12 came into view. "And it's not getting any better. We _will _have words about this. Oh, Professor, Mom wanted me to ask you something about the idiot of the house."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "What did she wish to know?"

Darcy smiled sweetly. "Has he grown as a person?"

Perhaps, he thought, the girl would turn out to be tolerable. "I dare say that, if _anything_, he's regressed. You are certainly under no obligations to like the man."

Darcy looked disappointed, but unsurprised. "Yeah, _that's_ news. It's his house, though, right? Do we have to make nice?"

Severus favored her with a sly grin. He really was enjoying this too much. "As I am not your parent, and not yet your Professor, sadly I cannot order you to be civil. But, I would advise that, should you decide to make Black's life more difficult, do not suggest that I had anything to do with it."

Darcy chuckled, then her lips curled into a wicked grin. "As if I'd do anything overt."

As he began to understand that Darcy was a good deal more than the dizzy blonde she appeared to be, Severus reversed his opinion about the outlook of the day. Darcy might actually enjoy herself, and Black's day was likely to be terrible…excellent.

As they neared the front door, Severus advised them to keep very quiet as they entered the house, as there were things on the first floor that should not be disturbed. Severus looked up and down the street, made certain no one was outside or at a window, tapped his wand against the door to unlock it, opened the door and quickly ushered them all into the house.

A/N: "Stop your job, look at the insensitive man," is a quote from "So I Married an Axe Murderer," which no more belongs to me than does Harry Potter or the World of Darkness. Review pretty please!


	10. Conversation

The first thing Severus noticed, upon entering the house, was that it was showing a marked improvement from the last time he'd been there, a mere three weeks earlier. The walls were freshly painted, the carpet had been replaced, the serpentine chandelier had been removed, and the awful gas lamps and portraits were gone. Instead, attractive baroque sconces and new paintings lined the walls. And the oppressive feeling of Dark magic that had previously permeated the entire building was almost gone. The only evidence left that it was indeed the same house was the covered portrait of Mrs. Black that still hung down the hall from the basement door, and even _it _had a new drape.

The wizards in the house would not have been able to do so much; Rachel's packmates had to be responsible for the extent of the changes. He had yet to meet any of them – they had not attended the one Order meeting he'd been present for in the past month, and, though he knew which rooms they were staying in, he had not sought them out.

They left the luggage by the door, and descended the stairs. As expected, Albus was in the basement kitchen, along with Molly Weasley and Black. Also present was a tall, reedy woman with wavy, strawberry blonde hair. She'd a mischievous look about her, reminiscent of that of the Weasley twins, so she was undoubtedly Pascale.

She was not particularly attractive – she was too thin, her face too long, her lips too full, and her eyes set too far apart, but she radiated confidence, humor, and seemed approachable in a way that Rachel was not. And so, while she was certainly not the type of woman he found attractive, Severus was not surprised that Rachel had insinuated that Pascale was _very _popular with men.

She looked over toward the door as they entered, then she grinned and exclaimed in a throaty voice, "My girls are here!"

Severus sidestepped barely in time to avoid being trampled as she barreled toward Rachel. As she passed by him, she said, "Nice to meetcha." She nearly knocked Rachel into the wall with the force of impact, hugged her sisters in a less life-threatening manner, then herded the three of them out of the room.

A few moments later, a loud cry sounded from above. "I'll be back in a moment," Molly Weasley promised, going to check on the girls.

Severus turned back around to find a confused Black looking toward the door. "Whatever is the matter, Black? I should think you'd be used to women running from you as though their very lives depended on it."

Black did no more than glare at him momentarily before confusion once more won out. "What happened to your face?"

Severus merely raised an eyebrow in response.

That moment, Molly reentered the room. "I believe Pascale was just getting up to a bit of mischief. That girl is…" she sighed and shook her head. "And I thought my _boys _were a handful."

Severus looked toward her. "Oh, you were _quite _correct, Molly."

Molly sat heavily in the closest chair. "As soon as Aton and John return, we can get started. They should be back in a half hour or so."

"Oh, Sirius," she began, favoring Sirius with a meaningful glance, "I'm still not certain where I am going to put Pascale… Darcy and Leah need her room."

Black glared at her, crossing his arms as his face colored slightly. With a frustrated sigh, he said, "The matter has already been taken care of, Molly, though I doubt you'll approve."

"Splendid!" Albus declared. He immediately steered the conversation in a much less interesting direction. Severus was disappointed; he'd have liked to discover for certain if what had just been implied was, in fact, correct – if it was _Black's_ room Pascale would be moving into. But he could wait.

* * *

Pascale paused just outside the door and picked up two pinkish pieces of string that were trailing up the stairs and out of sight. She turned to face Rachel and her sisters, put her free index finger to her lips and mouthed the word 'quiet'. Then, she turned and started up the stairs. 

The girls shared a look of confusion, but followed quietly.

Once she reached the door, Pascale stopped, brought the ends of the strings to her lips, cupped her mouth with her other hand, and shouted, "Get your arses down here!"

Twin shouts of surprise and pain sounded from almost directly above them. Pascale opened the door, then twisted around to face them, grinning madly. "I'm just trying to teach them the dangers of clumsy surveillance. Really, they should thank me for it. But _do_ they?"

She turned back at the sound of two loud cracks and found herself face to face with the very annoyed twins. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I _told _you that you should work on camouflaging these things. Anyway, would you mind levitating your cousins' luggage upstairs to my room?"

At that, she squeezed back past Darcy and Leah and pushed them forward. "Hey, Darcy, Leah, I'd like you to meet Fred and George."

The kitchen door opened and closed, and Mrs. Weasley called to them. "Everything all right up there?"

Fred and George immediately pulled on their Extendable Ears, tugging the ends out of Pascale's hand. "Fine, Mum, Pascale just wanted our help with the luggage," Fred called down.

"Nothing to trouble yourself with, Mum. We've got it," George added.

Mrs. Weasley sighed, "Just try not to wake anything up, alright?"

"Right Mum!"

Molly reentered the kitchen, and Fred and George exhaled the breaths they'd been holding, turning to glare at Pascale once more.

"Oh, I know, I know," Pascale reassured quietly, favoring them with a goofy grin. "Retribution when I least expect it. As always, I look forward to the challenge of avoiding my comeuppance. Now come on, the luggage isn't gonna move itself."

Fred and George returned Pascale's grin, though theirs were slightly sinister, as they were undoubtedly contemplating their revenge, then they turned around and walked out into the hallway, levitated the luggage and directed it toward the stairs.

"Keep quiet out in the hall, okay? No talking until we get upstairs," Pascale ordered. They followed her out the door and down the hall past an unpainted section of wall. There, in the center of the unpainted section, hung a heavy black drape. Rachel suspected it covered the painting of Sirius Black's mother, which Severus had kindly warned them about. Rachel's suspicions were all but confirmed when Pascale flipped the drape off as she passed it.

They silently ascended the stairs. As they reached the second landing, Fred and George were emerging from the door to the left. Immediately, they focused their attention on Darcy and Leah.

"Well, now that we're away from the painting of _doom_, we can greet you properly. Good morning, ladies!" Fred exclaimed.

With a flourish and half bow, George continued, "We welcome you to the madhouse."

"Yeah, and I'm Fred, he's George, and it's delightful to meet you both." Then Fred favored them with a rather exaggerated bow.

Leah giggled and Darcy rolled her eyes. "I'm Darcy, and the tiny one's my sister Leah, and not actually a House Elf, though she _has _been mistaken for one on occasion."

Leah crossed her arms. "Are you _ever _going to stop telling people that? I was only _five_ and I was dressed up as one for Halloween!"

Everyone, well everyone but Leah, laughed – partly because the idea of dressing up as a House Elf was quite odd, but mostly because of the indignant look on Leah's face.

The door across the way opened and a girl with bushy brown hair stepped out. "Hello," she said, then she poked her head back into the room. "Your cousins are here, Ron."

Fred announced, "Well, we'd love to stay and chat, but we're right in the middle of something."

"Yeah, must be off. I know it will be difficult, but try to carry on without us. We'll be back as soon as we can."

With a crack, Fred and George disapparated.

"We think they're trying to coax Ginny, that's our sister, into taking over their, erm, responsibilities at school. Hermione here's hoping that Ginny has enough sense _not_ to take up the mantle of school prankster, though," explained the tall red haired boy that had emerged while Fred and George were speaking. "I'm Ron, by the way."

"And I have never seen so much red hair in one place…oh, sorry, I'm Darcy."

"Hey, before you get too deep into the conversing, I need to borrow Rachel for a bit. Do you guys mind hanging out in Ron's room for a while? I _promise_ not to keep you from checking out your room for too long."

Darcy shrugged. "Sure, Pascale. It's cool, as long as we get our turn with Rachel later."

"God, what am I, a ride?" Rachel asked crossly.

With a quirk of an eyebrow and a particularly nasty smirk, Pascale whispered something in Rachel's ear that made her utter a startled eep, turn dark red, and duck into her sisters' new room.

"Wow, what did you say to her?" Darcy asked, intrigued.

Pascale whispered in Darcy's ear, "I just told her that she wasn't actually my type, but that the thought had probably crossed Severus' mind."

Darcy giggled. "You got that impression too? We'll _sooo _talk later." Then she turned to face Ron and Hermione.

"Why are we all still standing out here? Lead me now to a comfy chair!" she demanded.

As the kids filed into Ron's room, Pascale walked into the room that was no longer hers and shut the door, mumbling to herself, "I love that girl."

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Albus and Molly had settled into a comfortable conversation. Severus and Sirius, on the other hand, had lost interest and had returned to glaring at each other from opposite corners of the room. 

Severus wanted to resume their usual conversation – Black attempting to get under his skin and succeeding at the same himself. With Albus in the same room, however, it just seemed like a bad idea. For whatever reason, Albus was fond of Black and might take it upon himself to join in. And while Black rarely got to him, Albus could get past his defenses faster than anyone else on the planet.

So he simply stood, glared, and fervently wished that Black would just spontaneously combust, and thereby brighten his day…in more ways than one, he thought nastily.

"Something funny, _Snivellus_?"

"Just thinking that it would brighten my day if you were to burst into flames."

"Was that supposed to be funny?"

Severus rolled his eyes, choosing not to dignify that with a response.

* * *

Upstairs, the adolescents had settled down on the two beds in Ron's room and had begun to break the ice a bit. 

"Darcy, forgive me if this seems rude, but is that your natural hair color?"

"Oh God, no. My hair's naturally a little darker than yours is. But King Ayanami has a _fabulous_ line of hair care potions," Darcy declared with a flip of her hair.

"Really? Is it a topical potion?" Hermione asked, pushing her own unruly hair out of her face.

"Yes and no. First, you apply the topical one just like you would regular old hair color. But then you drink a one ounce potion every month and it'll grow that way. It kicks ass."

"Now, you said King Ayanami? Ayanami's your surname, isn't it?"

"Yup, and Mom's maiden name is King. Mom and Dad started the company before they got married. And so, since it's our company, I get to use the products for an unbeatable price."

"Meaning free?"

"Yup! Thank God for Mom's potions. The other one I use regularly keeps my skin clear, tan, and moisturized. Mom developed most of the potions King Ayanami sells herself, but a few of the people on staff do some of the creative stuff too."

Ron, who had grown more and more uncomfortable over the course of the very girly discussion, took the opportunity to interrupt. "Hey, erm, Mum said that we're supposed to catch you up on what's going on. So, how much do you know?"

"Actually, can we just skip over all that for a bit? I've got more pressing questions."

"Pressing?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah, what do you know about the public transportation situation? Hey, I'm a poet and I didn't even know it!"

Ron blinked a couple of times at the odd phrase. "Erm, why d'you wanna know that?"

"Duh! We're in London for three weeks! Sightseeing! We've got a map of the Underground, but we need to know if we'll need to catch a bus to the tube or if we're close enough to a stop to walk."

"But…I thought your Mum sent you here early so you could find out what was going on. You know, so you would be prepared for Hogwarts and You-Know-Who?" Hermione piped up.

"Shyeah, as if! Rachel sent us a _long _email explaining everything she knows. I don't care beyond that. Well, Leah probably has an afternoon's worth of questions." Darcy glanced over at Leah, who nodded. "But I'm all about being a tourist. Do you know how many art galleries and museums there are in London? And the cathedrals and parks; the historic buildings and the monuments? I can't wait to see the Tower and the Crown Jewels. And then there's the theatre – there's no way I'm gonna be in London and not go see 'Phantom'. Oh, and don't even get me _started _on the shopping…" Darcy trailed off as her eyes glazed over.

Ron shook his head. "Why would you want to go see all that muggle stuff?"

Darcy's eyes refocused and her jaw dropped. A moment later, her fists clenched, her mouth snapped shut, and her face started to turn red.

Leah reached up and put her hand on Darcy's shoulder. "Breathe deeply and count to ten. Mom made you promise!" Then Leah turned and glared at Ron.

"What'd I say?" Ron asked, confusion evident in his voice and on his face.

Darcy took a few deep breaths and crossed her arms over her chest. "Not everyone holds with that elitist crap, you know."

"What!" Ron cried.

Darcy snapped, "Did you, or did you not, just suggest that 'muggle' stuff was a waste of our time? 'Cause that's how it sounded. I mean, could you sound like _more_ of a dick?"

"Darcy!" Leah said sharply. "I doubt very much that Ron meant to offend us. We're in a different culture, remember? Mom made you _promise _not to fly off the handle over every little thing. Any of this ringing a bell?"

The fire drained from Darcy's face just as quickly as it appeared, and she slumped back on the bed with a huff. She looked, sheepishly, up at Ron. "I'm sorry I overreacted."

The confusion on Ron's face cleared a few moments later. "Oh, yeah! I remember Rachel saying that muggle and wizarding cultures are, what did she call it…_integrated _in America. I didn't mean nothing bad about muggles, we just don't, you know, really socialize with them or anything here. But, I didn't mean to get up your nose or anything."

Darcy's nose scrunched up as she tried to figure out what that last bit meant. Shrugging it off, she shook her head, "Did you ever wonder if that sort of attitude was one of the factors that led to the Big V?"

"The what?"

Darcy sighed. "Oh, You-Know-Who. Rachel warned us not to say the guy's name around you, so I'm calling him the Big V instead. It's faster than all that 'You-Know-Who' crap. Why don't you say his name anyway? It's not that hard to pronounce."

"Well, nah, it's not that it's hard to pronounce. It's just he's so, such a…" Ron trailed off. He took a deep breath. "He's so awful, evil, horrifying. He's just such a monster that no one can bear to speak or hear his name."

Darcy snorted. "You're kidding…" She looked at Ron and Hermione in turn. "Oh, you're _not_ kidding. You know, Leah here actually did some research into his original 'reign of terror'. Do you know how many deaths the Big V is actually responsible for?"

"Yeah, thousands!" Ron exclaimed.

Darcy turned to Leah and gave a little wave of her hand, indicating that she should take over.

Leah took a deep breath. "Approximately twenty-five thousand. By _comparison_, Josef Stalin was responsible for the deaths of somewhere between twenty and fifty **_million_** of his own countrymen, possibly more, but the Russian people were never afraid to use his name. They were undoubtedly afraid to talk trash about him at the time, but… Or Adolf Hitler – frankly, there are some frightening similarities between Hitler and Mr. Riddle, but that's a whole other conversation. Anyway, over sixty million people died in World War II. Every _one _of them died because of Adolf Hitler, but I've never heard of anyone fearing to speak his name.

"Now, I'm not saying that Riddle isn't a monster," Leah continued, "but frankly, I fail to see how people can be so terrified of him when he doesn't even come close to ranking among the top five killers of the twentieth century. Now, you may tell me that I'm naming all non-magics, or 'muggles' if you prefer, and that it's not the same thing, but I would tend to disagree with you."

"I…I dunno what to say to that." Ron paused a moment, contemplating the information Leah had just thrown at them.

"Did you say 'non-magics'?" Hermione asked.

"Well, you call them _muggles_, but we find that to be an offensive term. There are _centuries_ of prejudice tied to the word. Non-magic, on the other hand, suggests nothing beyond an inability to do magic. At first, they tried to get us to use the term 'mundane' to describe non-magical people. It works fine, mind you, as a descriptive term for inanimate objects, like houses or schools or whatever, but the connotation of mundane as applied to people is insulting. Mundane _is _the opposite of magical, but it also implies that one is ordinary or boring," Darcy answered.

Then she huffed. "Of course, you can still find a lot of people, living separated from the _rest_ of the human race, who continue to use the word 'muggle'. But you're certainly unlikely to hear the term in Los Angeles…well, most anywhere in California, really."

Ron rubbed the side of his head. "This is giving me a headache."

Hermione simply sat, eyebrows knit, with her chin resting in her palm. She eventually broke the uncomfortable silence, answering a previous question. "We're actually in central London, only about a half mile or so from a couple of different tube stops," she said absently. "You know, I never really thought about Voldemort that way."

"Hermione!" Ron scolded, wincing.

"What? Leah and Darcy have raised some excellent points just now. _Voldemort_ isn't half as bad as most," she paused and smiled, "non-magical dictators. I'm not saying we shouldn't fear him. It's always wise to fear a dangerous sociopath, right? But we shouldn't just allow that fear to consume or define us. And you know, Darcy, I've never thought much about the term 'muggle', but I think Americans are quite on to something there. So, what's your stance on House Elf liberation?"

* * *

Rachel stretched out on the bed, rolling onto her side to face Pascale, who'd plopped down on the other one. "So, what have you guys been up to this past month? It's been a little frustrating that Albus doesn't want any 'sensitive subjects' discussed over the floo connection." 

"Well, it hasn't actually been all that exciting lately. I actually meant it literally when I told you we've been cleaning house. You wouldn't have believed this place when we got here. Filthy, cracked and peeling paint, threadbare carpet, rusted sconces and it _smelled _funny. But the cosmetic issues were minor compared to the…" Pascale shuddered and then shook her head.

"Sirius' family… Most of his relatives are or were Dark wizards and witches. And the few that weren't, like him, got removed from the official family tree. This house was so permeated with the Wyrm and Dark magic when we arrived that none of us could bear to sleep here for the week it took us to Cleanse the Wyrm from the house." Pascale ran a hand over her face. "I actually threw up the first time we walked into the place; that should give you a better idea of how bad it was. Fortunately, all the Cleansing rites destabilized the Dark magic enough that a few members of the Order have been able to dismantle most of the Dark spells and charms on the house. The only thing we've been unable to get rid of is Mrs. Black, and we finally figured out how to deal with her."

"Really? How? Severus told me that it had been attached to the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm. I thought only the original caster could remove that spell."

"You're not wrong. Sirius told us the same thing. So, we can't get the painting off the wall, but there's nothing protecting the wall itself. And _it_ happens to be constructed of rather average wood. I suppose you noticed that we haven't painted that section of the wall?"

Rachel's eyes widened. "What are Aton and John out doing?"

Pascale smiled widely, eyes sparkling. "They went to the post office to pick up a couple of powered hand saws and a portable generator your dad sent us. We'll just need someone here to un-shrink them and then, _bzzzzzzz_. Then old Mrs. Black will start screaming, 'I'm melting, I'm melting!' or something, then she'll topple over, and we'll all sing 'Ding, dong, the witch is dead'. I plan to lead a rousing chorus of it."

Pascale got a far-off look in her eyes. "I can't wait to be rid of that horrible painting. Oh, and since none of us knows anything about rebuilding a wall, I sent your mom the measurements of the area we're cutting out and a sample of the wood and plaster. She said she'd send us some 'Contractor in a Can' _at cost_ along with the tools and the generator."

"Dang, Mom's feeling awfully generous with that stuff lately. She and Dad sent me enough of it to turn my cold, stone, candlelit office into a warm, inviting living room. She gave it to me for free, though."

"Actually, Aton _insisted _on paying for the raw materials even though Maddie said the profit margin was so high on the product that she'd be more than happy to give it to us for free. She said that ever since your dad and Tyler got the Arithmancy program perfected, she just has to prepare a couple of potions and Ty takes care of the rest. She said the whole process takes about an hour now that the computer does all the Arithmancy calculations."

"Wow! I still remember when King Ayanami Corp. first started production; the process took a solid day and a half. Did Mom say much about how Ty was working out? I haven't talked to her about it, and I knew she was afraid it was going to be awkward working with Todd's better half."

"Pfft. No one can resist Ty's charms for long. I mean, if your uptight brother couldn't resist him, who could? Still not sure what he sees in Todd, though. Anyway, Maddie couldn't stop gushing about what a great job he's doing. After all, he's brilliant with Arithmancy, Charms _and _computers. He _is _the job description. Ty's doing such a great job that your Dad's already free to go back to teaching. And he and Ty are co-writing a paper on Computer-assisted Arithmancy. Apparently, three different journals have already expressed interest. They're pretty excited."

"You got all of this from _one _conversation?"

"Hey! It's _me_."

"Hmm, I should probably give Mom a call. You make me feel like a terrible daughter."

"Well, I try. And since you can actually _make_ phone calls from here, you don't even have an excuse for not calling her."

"True. So, is that it? Or have you been doing anyone, er, _thing _else?"

* * *

"See, Hermione," Ron said gleefully. "_Everyone _except you knows that House Elves are happy enslaved." 

"_I _didn't say enslaved. I said bound. It's subtly different," Darcy clarified.

"It hardly makes a difference. The Elves _still_ don't have the freedom to do what they want! Bound _or _enslaved," Hermione fumed.

"Are you just not paying attention to me?" Darcy asked, clearly exasperated. Without waiting for a reply, she continued talking. "House Elves _want _to work. It's their entire, freaking purpose in life! Do you know what non-magics call House Elves? Yeah, they've heard of them. Non-magics call them _Brownies_. Ever read any stories about them? Of _course _you have. They aren't happy unless they have a family and a home to care for. They only wound up bound to wizard families in the first place because they wouldn't agree to stop serving non-magic families when all the secrecy laws were passed.

"Magically binding all the House Elves to wizard families was the only thing they could think of to solve the problem. At the time, of course, no one thought that wizards would ever lose respect for House Elves and start treating them like crap. Didn't you learn this in History?"

"No, we did not. I've never heard any such thing. Do you have the book with this information with you?" Hermione asked icily.

"No, we had Ethics last year. Why would I bring a book I was done with?"

"How very convenient," Hermione sneered.

Ron was beginning to look afraid. Hermione never got like this with him and Harry. Leah, on the other hand, had gotten bored of playing peacemaker and quietly slipped from the room.

Darcy stood up and jabbed an index finger accusingly at Hermione. "Don't give me that shit! Just 'cause I don't have it on me, don't act like I made it up! I'm not a walking reference library."

Hermione stood and faced off with Darcy. "Nor do you look like one. A streetwalker perhaps, but…"

Darcy took another step forward, bringing her nearly nose to nose with Hermione. "Hey, just because you're not used to being the _ignorant _party in a discussion doesn't mean you get to…"

Darcy was far too busy shouting at Hermione to see it coming. And Ron could only watch in disbelief as Hermione's face twisted in anger and her arm, and most importantly the open palm at the end of it, arced toward Darcy's face. The impact of said palm actually turned her head.

Ron watched, horrified, as Darcy lifted a trembling hand to her face and took a couple of gasping breaths, eyes welling up with tears. Ron was torn between comforting his cousin, then scolding Hermione, or just playing it safe and staying out of the whole thing.

Had he been sitting on Darcy's _other _side, he might have felt a bit differently about the turn of events, as he might have noticed Darcy's hand curling into a fist. So, Ron was still sitting, undecided, and Hermione had relaxed and was looking distinctly apologetic when Darcy struck. She caught Hermione in the jaw with a right hook and Hermione fell to the ground between the beds, still conscious but shocked beyond reaction.

"I thought it was only fair that I get in one you didn't see coming too. And, no offense, but you hit like a girl," Darcy spat out coldly.

At that, a freshly enraged Hermione kicked out hard, catching Darcy in the shin. She went tumbling down on top of Hermione with a shout.

Ron shoved himself off the bed, intending to put a stop to the fight before it got bloody. But he'd only taken one step forward when he was thoroughly distracted by long, toned legs and green satin knickers. Then he noticed that Hermione's top had ridden up in the scuffle, exposing her midriff and just the tiniest bit of her bra.

Eyes unblinking and mouth dry, Ron didn't even realize that he'd sat back down. He was pulled, momentarily, out of fifteen year old boy heaven by a memory that echoed through his head: 'Bloody great pervert…leering at our cousin that way.'

Abashed and slightly disgusted with himself, but glad that at least she wasn't a _first _cousin, he refocused his attention on Hermione…well, primarily on Hermione, at any rate. And once he focused on her, he couldn't rip his eyes away. Her face was flushed, her hair in disarray, and her eyes on fire as she wrestled with Darcy, thrashing, kicking, and shoving, and finally getting herself into a kneeling position. Ron was certain she'd never been more beautiful, though he did wish her pants were a little tighter. At last, she managed to get Darcy into a headlock.

As Darcy was about to bite her way free, she finally noticed Ron watching with glazed eyes and a slack jaw.

"Hey Ron," Darcy said conversationally. "Is this workin' alright for you or would it help if we stripped?"

Darcy's sharp tone on her last few words penetrated Ron's lust-fogged brain and he flinched. "I, uh, erm…"

Turning redder than his hair, Ron jumped off the bed and ran for the door. He might have made it out completely unscathed, too, had Darcy not grabbed his ankle, causing him to pitch forward. But Ron had grown up with five older brothers and it had made him a fairly adept escape artist. Wrenching his ankle out of Darcy's grasp, he used the doorknob to pull himself up, opening the door at the same time. He was out of the room only a few seconds later than originally planned, and with only a scraped knee for his trouble.

Halfway up the stairs to Fred and George's room, though, Ron realized _what _he'd just escaped from, and sunk down in misery. He'd just _run _from a chance to roll about on the floor with Hermione. Whatever pain they'd have inflicted would have been more than worth it! Dammit!

So he sat, frustrated, on the stairs. His mind flickered back, at last, to Darcy's question to him, asking if it would help if they stripped. Absently grateful that Darcy had seemed more amused than angry, Ron drifted off into a fantasy where he told them that it just might and they happily complied. And soon, they asked Fantasy Ron to join in…

The sound of a door opening and closing brought Ron back to his senses, and to the realization that his pants had gotten quite uncomfortable. Realizing that someone could pass by him at any moment, Ron rushed to the nearest toilet and locked himself in. Drifting back into his fantasy, he, well, took the situation firmly in hand.

* * *

The sniping back and forth got boring pretty quickly. Severus avoided any mention of Pascale, as it could lead to questions about Rachel. And Severus was far too unsure of his feelings toward the woman to have the desire to talk about her with someone like Black. 

And perhaps the bugger sensed that…

"So, Pascale never mentioned how hot Rachel was," Sirius said with a suggestive smirk.

Severus sneered, "Unsurprising, as Miss Ayanami is undoubtedly not Pascale's type."

"Too bad. I wouldn't mind being the meat in _that _sandwich, if you catch my drift."

Oh God, was Black actually going to attempt to have a conversation with him about this? "You really are a simpleton. It truly amazes me how entirely unable you are to think with the brain inside your skull."

"Well, at least I get good use out of the other. I spent over a decade celibate due to circumstance. Must be worse for you, though, to go without 'cause no one would shag you."

They were interrupted by a small voice at the door. "Well, so much for my hope of finding intelligent conversation among the adults." With that, Leah turned to leave.

And Severus was far too mortified to stop her.

* * *

"So, Aton's family will be here in a couple of weeks. Albus' buddy at the Bureau has been able to help expedite the immigration process for them. I'm not sure if their originally being from Egypt made it easier or harder for him to do, but Saphiya is very grateful. She'd always wanted to live here. You know, she was always worried that little Izzy was gonna get shot at school or something." 

Rachel chuckled. "I'll bet she's almost as worried that the nickname's gonna stick."

"Like I'm really gonna call him 'Azizi'. Now _there's_ a name that could get your ass kicked on the playground. She'll come around. It took a long time, but she's finally gotten used to me calling her Phie (pronounced: fee)."

"So, is there gonna be room for them here?"

Pascale smiled widely. "There doesn't have to be! We're buying a house just outside of Inverness. It's closing next week. Surprise! We _were_ gonna surprise you _after _we moved in, but it turns out we need you to sign the papers, too. Since you're 'officially'," Pascale punctuated the word with air quotes, "a witch, having your name on the deed means we can get hooked into the Floo Network really easily. That's even more convenient than a Moon Bridge for emergency travel. We could be in Hogsmeade or London at a moment's notice."

"Oh my God, that's fabulous! You'll be pretty close to the school, I think. I couldn't tell you exactly how close, what with Hogwarts being unplottable, but, ooh, I bet I could walk to the nearest mundane town, and then figure the distance from there." Realizing Pascale was staring blankly at her, Rachel grinned weakly. "Sorry, off topic. You were saying?"

"Thanks. Anyway, there's a Fianna sept pretty close by. We've already been there and introduced ourselves. Apparently, it's a popular spot for Fianna tourists, since it's practically along the Scotch Whiskey trail."

"Nifty. So, since when do you know about floo travel? You were never interested in 'wizard stuff' before. Someone more compelling than little old me telling you tales?" Rachel asked, fishing for possible dirt about Sirius.

"Oh, fine. He's a _demon _in the sack. He was in Azkaban for twelve years, and he's been a fugitive ever since, so it'd been, like, at least fourteen years since he'd been laid. _Stamina_ is the word, we're talking _God-like_ levels of stamina. Add to that all the pent up rage and frustration he's working through, and my _God_ are we talking **_best sex EVER_**."

Rachel held up her hand. "Okay, got it. So you finally managed to find a fellow sexual compulsive to date. Congratulations. What's he like _out _of bed?"

"The perfect playmate, that's what. What with spending most of his adult life in jail, he never really grew up. He still wants to be twenty-one, and so do I, really, so it works. All in all, most fun I've had in a decade."

So, since you _were _twenty-one, eh?"

"Hey, watch it there! A decade ago I was only _twenty_, thank you very much. Oh, I'll tell you one thing about Sirius. He _loves_ to talk shit about your buddy, Sev. He says he feels terribly sorry for you, by the way, for having to put up with the 'greasy git'. Didn't look greasy to me, but whatever. He _is _in desperate need of a haircut, but so was Sirius before I cornered him with my scissors."

"I actually _was _hoping you could corner Severus and force a decent haircut on him. I was hoping for _more _sexy Goth, _less _creepy homeless man."

Pascale chuckled. "I could be up for that. Although, rather than cornering him, how about I ask nicely? From what I've heard, the man has, well, some issues. I think I'd be happier if he didn't hate me. But hey, enough with the talking about me, what's up with you? You know, _aside_ from insomnia. _That_ I figured out on my own."

* * *

"Severus, would you mind locating Pascale and Rachel? It's time we got started. I believe that's Aton and John at the door," Albus said as Molly got up to answer the door. 

"Not at all Albus," Severus replied, reveling in the shock that decorated Black's face. That's right, you poncy bugger, Severus thought, I can be civil…just not to _you_. So ready was he to jump at a chance to get away from Black for a few minutes, Severus didn't so much as stop to wonder why Albus asked _him_ specifically.

Not wishing for any awkward encounters with the children, Severus cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself as he exited the room. Between the charm and the poorly lit halls, Severus managed to escape the notice of a few Weasleys on his way to Pascale's room. As expected, he heard female voices coming from within.

Perhaps he had been a spy for too long, perhaps it was too good an opportunity to gain insight into the feminine mind to pass up, or perhaps it was simply a juvenile desire to find out if they were talking about him. But whatever the reason, the hand he'd raised to knock dropped to his side and he leaned against the wall to listen…just for a moment, of course.

"Hey, I can be worried about you if I _want _to be. The last time you looked like you do right now was the summer after you _graduated_."

"I know, I know." Rachel sounded worn out and completely unguarded. He was reminded of the girl he'd seen curled in a ball on Hogwarts' lawn.

"I can't remember ever feeling so exhausted and yet wound so tight at the same time. I mean, I'm gonna be teaching Judo to a bunch of kids that aren't learning it by choice. I can't _begin _to predict how much it will affect their performance, but I'm certain that most will have crappy attitudes. Now, I can gain their respect; I know how to do that well enough. But that won't fix the attitude problem. How do I make them _want _to be there?" Rachel sighed.

"And _that's _something I only _just_ started thinking about. The Acromantulas are a more pressing issue. You remember, those giant spider-y things I told you about? We're down to three weeks before school starts, but Albus has yet to make a decision about our plan. I am _sooo_ jonesing for a decent fight against a _real_ opponent right now. I might actually ask one of you guys to spar with me later."

Rachel paused, and began to speak in a very different tone. It was slightly husky, almost sensual. "And then, there's Severus."

"Okay, _now _we're talking," Pascale interrupted. "You know, I _saw _the way you were looking at him earlier in the kitchen, sweetie. Not that I'm surprised. I mean, if you looked up 'Rachel Ayanami's type' in the dictionary, you'd probably see a picture of Severus Snape and a description of his general personality. Seriously, he really _has_ got quite the Trent Reznor thing goin', huh?"

Rachel giggled. "Yeah, the trench coat really adds to it too."

Severus' jaw went slack. Rachel was attracted to him? Was that what Robert tried to tell him earlier? Why he kept catching her staring at him? For a moment, he could hear nothing but white noise; he had to focus past it to catch what Pascale was saying.

"Anyway, what I want to make clear to you is that a fight is _not _what you need right now. You _need _to get laid. It's been, what, over four years since you had so much as a _date_? Um, mouth looks better closed, Raych."

Severus didn't know if Rachel shut her mouth at Pascale's admonition, but he could not seem to shut his own. All his energy was employed in an effort to remain upright and to hold his imagination at bay.

"Seriously, you're twenty-one now, sweetie. The virgin thing's just _sad_ at your age."

Severus lost his battle against gravity, hitting the floor with an audible thump.

"Did you hear something?" Pascale interrupted, then paused for a moment. "Weird. Hey, you know what? Maybe it was the front door. Aton and John should be back by now; it must be about time for the meeting to start. Why don't we head down? Right, then… You just keep doing your impression of an inanimate object. Come on down when you're finished."

Severus had just managed to pull his knees up to his chest when the door opened and Pascale strolled past, missing him by mere inches. When she'd turned the corner, Severus stood and looked into the room, to see Rachel standing up as well. Arms wrapped round herself, she stepped over to the window, and leaned against the frame, apparently contemplating the view.

As Severus saw it, he had three options. He could stride into the room, apologize for eavesdropping, and deal with the consequences. But that seemed too Gryffindor an action to even contemplate. He could be a good Slytherin; walk away and file the information away until such time as he could use it to his advantage. Or he could just go with his gut instinct – snog her senseless, let her come to her own conclusions.

He removed the Disillusionment Charm and took a deep breath. He stalked across the room as Rachel raised her head. As she opened her mouth to greet him, or possibly to ask why his face was so white, he tangled a hand in her hair and brought his lips down to her own, pausing only long enough to see her eyes widen, then flutter closed in anticipation. Neither heard the gasp that sounded from the doorway a few moments later.

The kiss wasn't exactly what Severus had planned – he'd intended it to be fierce and possessive, but instead it was sweet and soft, passionate but gentle. As Rachel's arms wrapped around his neck, all conscious thought fled, and Severus lost himself in her soft, sweet mouth.


	11. Damage Control

"Well, Rachel hasn't seen her," Darcy said airily as she stepped back into the room. "Do you remember when we lost her?"

Hermione thought for a few moments. "I believe it was after we started arguing, but before it, well, turned violent. Look, I'm sorry, I don't usually…"

"Have to share your boys with another girl?" Darcy teased.

"Well, I hardly think it was because of…" She trailed off as she realized that Darcy was right. "Good lord, I never thought I would _ever_ act so, so…_girly_." Hermione shuddered, disgusted with herself. She'd always believed herself above such behavior.

"What, did you demand that a certain someone send you flowers?" Darcy asked with a smirk.

"I mean **_girly!_** The slapping, the hair-pulling and name-calling, um, and I believe there may also have been an attempt to scratch your eyes out."

Darcy chuckled. "That's okay, you know. You have just as much right to be a hormonal time bomb as anyone else."

Hermione grinned weakly. "Why doesn't that make me feel any better?"

Darcy shrugged. "Dunno, probably for about the same reason it's never made me feel any better when my mom says it to me."

"That does explain why it sounded a bit rehearsed. Hmm, and I suppose that, even if it's true, it's not very reassuring to be told that sometimes you can't stop your hormones from overriding your brain," Hermione contemplated.

"Ooooh, speaking of hormones overriding your brain, could you believe Ron?"

The need to find Leah long forgotten, Hermione and Darcy spent the rest of the afternoon talking and giggling about boys.

* * *

After what felt like an eternity, Severus pulled back from Rachel for a few deep breaths. As his head began to clear, the panic set in. 

What the hell was he doing?! He'd not yet sorted out his feelings. He was attracted to her, more than a bit interested in her, surely, but was he prepared to allow her into his life? His heart? After all, his life was dangerous. Would a relationship with him be fair for her? Would being involved with him put her in danger? And was a relationship what she truly even wanted?

Rachel, incidentally, was doing little better. Once her brain started to unscramble, her thoughts mirrored Severus' quite closely. She knew they needed to talk, and she had every intention of initiating it…for about two seconds.

Then, she chickened out. "So, yeah…the…um…meeting. We should be getting to that. They're probably waiting for us."

But as she said it, she could see Severus starting to shut down. As he crossed his arms defensively, Rachel found a bit of her courage. Hoping to reassure them both, she covered both of his hands with hers, kissed him softly, and whispered, "I think we need to talk about this, but later, when there are no pending interruptions."

A moment later, she pulled back and smiled wryly. "And hopefully after the blind panic passes."

That statement earned her a brief smile. Lowering his head so that their faces were no more than an inch apart, he drawled, "In that case, do you believe the Christmas holidays would be too soon?"

"You know, you weren't kidding, Severus," Rachel said as she rested her forehead against his. "You _are _ever the comedian."

She felt, rather than saw, his smile. "We really should go, Rachel."

Feeling an absurd thrill at the way her name sounded when it was spoken in his smooth, silky voice, Rachel nodded and allowed Severus to lead her out of the room.

* * *

Not half an hour later, Severus wished he and Rachel had never left that room. The entire purpose of the afternoon's _important _meeting was to decide whether or not to tell the Order about the existence of the Garou at the _real_ meeting that would be held that evening, after a ridiculous number of witches and wizards retrieved Potter. 

It had taken Rachel and her packmates less than ten minutes of discussion to decide that it would be fine with them, at which time Albus said, "Excellent! It is unfortunate that I must miss this evening's meeting, but I leave this in your capable hands." Then he turned to go, as he needed to get to another appointment, but he turned back once more.

"One more thing. Under no circumstances are any of you to breathe a word of this to Mr. Potter or Miss Granger. It is not their concern," then he nodded once, and left quickly, undoubtedly having seen that both Rachel and Pascale looked prepared to argue the point.

Severus had thought that would be the end, but _someone_ thought the matter required more discussion.

Molly Weasley was not kin to the Garou, but Arthur had told her, along with their children, what he knew of them. And she'd apparently learned more in the past few weeks. For example, she'd learned that a young Garou's first change usually occurred between the ages of twelve and sixteen, unless, like John, the Garou was born a wolf. He'd been two years old when he'd first changed, and strictly speaking was currently only eight.

Not surprisingly, she'd been quite upset to learn that a 'cub' often had only a year or two to learn about what she was and how to fight before she was sent out on a quest of sorts, called the Rite of Passage, to prove herself. If the cub completed this quest, she was considered an adult, regardless of actual age.

At any rate, Molly thought that a horrifying practice, and more or less wanted _millennia_ of Garou tradition justified to her, but Rachel had told her in no uncertain terms that Garou society was none of Molly's concern.

And Severus thought that was when things went south, but as that had been when he'd stopped paying attention, he could not be certain. Instead, he chose to use the time to study Rachel's packmates, as he had no desire to listen to any more of Molly's over-protective maternal rambling.

Pascale sat almost indecently close to Black; he was gratified that their hands, at least, were visible, but neither appeared to be paying much attention to the 'meeting'.

John was much as Rachel had described him. Slouched against the wall, he was the very picture of the California stereotype. Sandy blonde hair partially obscured his blue-gray eyes and what Rachel called 'male model looks', but the ill-fitting clothing he wore could not hide his powerful build. And, he'd apparently had as much of the meeting as he could stand, Severus noted, watching as John slid down to the floor, shifted to lupus, and curled up in a ball. Lucky bastard...

Aton was another thing altogether. Though slight of build and plain of face, he simply radiated power, and something in his gaze was just…otherworldly. He had the look of a man who had discovered the answers to several of life's mysteries, but had not been overwhelmed by what he'd learned. He knew that look, Albus wore it occasionally. Overall, Aton was easily the most unassuming as well as the most intimidating of the lot.

"No!" Molly shouted, calling Severus' attention back to the meeting. "That is simply unacceptable, no one in the Order will accept your half-truths, nor shall we appreciate being told that it was none of our business!"

"Well, you do make a good point there, Molly," Pascale conceded, and Molly smiled in response. But then, Pascale narrowed her eyes. "I suggest that anyone who's got a problem with it just go ask Harry Potter for advice about how to deal, as he should know _just _how they feel. Oh, except, of course, that the loop _he's _being kept out of actually _is _his business."

"He's still a child," Molly hissed, furious with the turn in the conversation.

At that point, Pascale slammed her hand down on the table and the room went silent. "So _you _think! That don't make it true. Teenagers ain't kids, and treating them like they are is just stupid! It's one thing to set rules or whatever, it's totally another thing to try to control every aspect of their lives! You gotta trust that they're grown up enough to make their own decisions. Trying to control them, or to withhold information from them… God, that just lets 'em know that you _don't_ trust them. And, if that's the message you convey, believe me when I say they'll make the stupidest decisions a person could possibly make!"

By the time Pascale stopped talking, she was seething, Rage and frustration coming off her in waves. Her last sentence had been little more than a growl. Apparently, Molly had hit quite a nerve. Severus glanced at Rachel, who looked very worried.

Pascale pushed herself away from the table and strode to the far corner of the room, bracing her hands against the wall as if to direct her energy into it, and began to breathe deeply. Severus hypothesized that Pascale was attempting to gain control of herself. Sure enough, after about half a minute, the tension in her frame subsided slightly.

Apparently deciding that Pascale was going to be alright, and that silence had reigned long enough, Rachel spoke up. "Look, none of this has had anything to do with the topic at hand," she said calmly. "What we choose to tell the Order simply isn't your decision. You were here to answer our questions, not vice versa. This meeting was called only for the benefit of this pack, so that _we_ could decide whether or not to trust the Order with the knowledge that the Garou exist. We _did _not and _will _not agree to provide you, or anyone else, with any information you do not _require_. That's it, get over it, end of discussion. In fact, end of meeting."

She rose from her chair and walked over to Pascale, easing an arm around the taller woman's shoulders. In the shocked silence of the room, her whispered words were quite audible. "Paz, honey. Let's get you out of here, okay?"

Pascale nodded once, pushed herself away from the wall, and from Rachel, and all but ran from the room. Rachel, Aton, and John, who was still a great big wolf, all followed more slowly behind her.

"Well, I believe _that _answered a few of your questions, Molly. I certainly hope you're satisfied." It wasn't often that Severus could claim the moral high ground, but he was petty enough to relish it when he could.

"What are you nattering on about, Snivellus?"

Ignoring Black, Severus continued, "Molly, you were upset by the idea that children could be required to risk their lives fighting evil because of a simple accident of birth. It is certainly understandable, as it stems from your worry about your own children, and Potter as well. However, that comparison is as unfair as it is inaccurate. Your children, Potter, Granger, they are all human. Garou, quite simply, are not. If Pascale had truly lost her temper just now, she could have killed you before you'd the time to blink, let alone to draw your wand. They are quite powerful; they have great physical strength and speed due to their Rage, their inner beast, if you will."

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, and then continued. "You need to understand, Molly, that the beast is there at all times. You may not always be able to see it, but Rachel put it like this once, 'within every Garou is a primal, bestial warrior, eager to rend her foes limb from limb, and howl in victory over their broken, bloody corpses.' At any rate, they go into the fight as young as they do because the Rage has to be channeled somewhere productive, or they could become dangerous to everyone, themselves included."

"Why didn't she just say that?" Molly asked weakly.

"She did, more or less," Sirius replied quietly. "You just didn't want to hear it, Molly."

He was careful not to allow it to show, but Severus felt more than a bit uncomfortable that he and Black were on the same side of an argument. Rather than stay and dwell on it, he excused himself and swept out of the room.

He wanted nothing more than to collect Rachel and get the hell out of the house. He heard a series of dull thuds coming from the direction of the lounge, but he chose to postpone his investigation when he heard voices, one of which was familiar, coming from the dining room. He crept closer and heard Rachel say, "No, I understand, agree even. But I gotta go. I'll be back tonight for the real meeting. You'll help John take care of Pascale, yeah?"

"Of course, Rachel," replied a strongly accented voice that Severus didn't recognize, but deduced was Aton's. "But…"

But Rachel cut him off with a quick, "Yeah, cool. Bye."

As footsteps rapidly approached the door, Severus backed off a bit, waiting for her a ways down the hall.

When Rachel emerged, her face looked a bit pinched, like she was trying not to cry and barely succeeding. When she looked up and saw him waiting for her, Severus saw that her eyes did indeed look suspiciously bright.

"What did you hear?"

"Only that you had to leave, but would be back tonight," he replied carefully. "So, where are we going?"

Rachel shot him a grateful smile. "Um, can we just wander?"

"If you like." Severus motioned for her to precede him out of the house, so he could lock up behind them.

Though he had outwardly agreed to wander, Severus could not bear the idea of walking without at least a destination in mind, so he began leading Rachel toward the nearby Leaky Cauldron. And in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, he took her hand once they were safely out of view of the house. He hoped that she would require no further prodding to tell him what was wrong. After several minutes of silence, however, he resigned himself to the fact that something more would be necessary.

As such, he spent the _next_ few minutes trying to come up with something to say. He decided firmly against asking her if she was alright. She clearly was not, and there were few things he detested more than stupid questions. And yet asking he _what _was wrong seemed somehow presumptuous. Dammit, this was one of many reasons that relationships always seemed more trouble than they were worth. But then he looked at her.

With her shoulders slumped and head bowed, she seemed the very picture of defeat. When she really wanted to, Rachel could produce an emotionless mask to rival his own. It twisted his gut to know that she trusted him enough to let her guard down. It was not a comfortable feeling, but he realized that he did not wish it to go away, and might possibly fight to hold on to it. And so, he admitted to himself, he had no choice to _make _– his rusty, bruised old heart had already let her in. And so, he told himself, he'd damned well better say something…

"Will you be alright, Rachel?"

She squeezed his hand tight for a moment and looked up at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I…I don't know," she said in a tiny, shaky voice, terror creeping into her eyes. In the time he'd known her, Rachel had never been without the answer to a question or without a solution to a problem. She had, in fact, been totally, perhaps even obsessively, over-prepared. But at the moment, she had a problem, whatever it was, that she did not know if she could solve. And, now that he had an idea of how much she'd been repressing of late, he was afraid that she had to be dangerously close to going completely round the twist. But as luck would have it, the Leaky Cauldron was only a few more blocks away.

"Can you hold on for just a few more minutes?"

She closed her eyes and took a deep, if shaky, breath. She nodded once, sharply, and tightened her grip on his hand a bit more.

Severus hurried them along, and soon he was guiding Rachel to a booth and getting her settled. "I promise to be right back."

Rachel nodded and let go of his hand. She flashed him a grateful, if quite wan, smile and slumped back in the booth.

After a brief conversation with Tom, Severus led Rachel toward their newly procured room. He'd worry about the inevitable gossip later, but for the moment his sole concern was getting her to a soundproofed area so that she could break down, but keep her dignity intact.

He led her into room #10, sat her down on the bed and Imperturbed the room. Almost the very moment he performed the charm, Rachel bowed her head and began to sob. Unsure of how to handle the situation, Severus gingerly sat beside her and began to rub her back awkwardly. She swiftly turned and buried her head in his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. She clung to him as though her very life hung in the balance, her sobs growing in volume and intensity until her entire body was shaking violently and he feared there could be permanent damage to his hearing. Force of will alone stopped him from defensively cradling his ears.

Severus wrapped his own arms around her slight frame and laid down, pulling her unresisting form along. As her tears soaked through his shirt, he finally allowed himself to wonder what horror could have befallen her in the few minutes he'd left her alone.

About the time he was developing a crick from her stranglehold on his neck, Rachel's sobs began to taper off, her grip round his neck loosened, and her breathing began to even out. Once he was certain she was asleep, Severus carefully disentangled himself and covered her with a light blanket.

He half thought to contact Pascale and ask for her assistance, as she was familiar with Rachel's issues. But somehow, he didn't think she'd be much of a soothing influence. But there had to be someone, someone better equipped to deal with emotionally distraught women. His own talents, after all, generally leant more toward _causing _emotional distress than with alleviating it.

Severus ran a hand through Rachel's hair, wondering again how exactly he'd become so tangled in another's life. At the contact, Rachel emitted a contented sigh and snuggled closer, and he realized that it didn't matter. Who was he to question life's strange decision to throw some happiness his way? When she awoke, he'd do the best he could, and that would damn well have to be adequate.

* * *

"What the hell is wrong with you? You challenged her for alpha? After I said you should hold off?!" Pascale seethed, unable to believe what she'd heard. 

"It wasn't your choice, and I didn't even get that far. I simply expressed my concerns – she just guessed where I was going and ran with it, like you know she tends to do. I didn't _have_ to challenge her; she thought I was right. Really, I don't know why you're so upset," Aton explained.

"'Cause sometimes I think everyone's an idiot but me!!" Pascale shouted back.

"_Filth!__ Scum! Mudbloods, monsters, freaks, begone from the house of my fathers_…"

"John," Pascale began in a deceptively calm voice, "would you mind _terribly_ getting rid of that damn thing now instead of tomorrow?"

John, who'd been lying curled up in the next room, shifted to homid, picked up the nearby crate of supplies, and scampered, shooting Aton a sympathetic glance on his way out.

"Look, Rachel seemed fine; what are you so worried about?" Aton asked calmly.

Pascale narrowed her eyes, but realized that he really had no idea and her fury dissipated. "Aton, Rachel's carefully constructed world has been steadily unraveling and you just gave the last thread, you know, the one she was hangin' on by, a good, sharp yank. I just hope no one gets hurt."

Silence reigned for a good minute or so while Aton considered Pascale's words, but then the high pitched buzz of a power saw and the shrieks of Mrs. Black rang out through the house. The panicked shrieks grew louder for a few minutes, then the saw abruptly stopped, and there was a loud 'thwap' as the painting hit the floor; the carpet caused the shrieks to be muffled considerably.

Pascale grinned. "Look, we can talk more about this later; I've a chorus to lead right now."

She swept out of the room. Aton sat at the table, slightly dazed; he appeared unsure of what, exactly, he'd done wrong, but certain he'd be paying for it for the foreseeable future.

* * *

Severus opened his eyes, and was confused by his discovery that Rachel was not where she'd been when he'd momentarily shut his eyes. As his mind cleared, he realized that he must have fallen asleep, and at some point had rolled onto her back and wound a hand into his hair. He gently untangled her fingers from his hair and gently eased her arm down so he could look at her watch. He was unable to suppress a gasp. Assuming Rachel's watch was working properly, it was half past three – they'd slept for nearly four hours. 

As he stared blankly at the time, Rachel began to stir. Severus shifted to his side to better watch as she awoke, but kept hold of her hand. When she raised her other hand to rub her eyes, he began to gently kiss her knuckles.

She smiled and made a soft, contented noise that Severus struggled not to find adorable. She raised her head, contentment in her eyes as she watched him kiss her hand. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Rachel pulled her hand out of his grasp to stroke his face. "Thank you," she said earnestly.

She appeared to struggle to find the words to express the scope of what she was feeling as she continued, in a most distracting manner, to map out the planes and lines of his face with her fingertips. Finally, she leant forward and softly brushed her lips against his, and whispered, almost reverently, "Thank you," as she pulled back.

"You are quite welcome." Severus paused for a few moments. "Can you talk about it yet?"

Rachel nodded and pushed herself upright, sat against the headboard and pulled her knees to her chest. "Not…well, not excited about it, but I think I need to. I'm told I repress too much. Mmm…" she groaned, leaning her head back. "I feel like I slept all day."

"You _did _sleep for several hours of it, at any rate. But we've two hours before we need to head back."

Rachel's head dropped to her chest, and she took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm not alpha any more."

Well, Severus thought, that certainly explained the breakdown. He wanted to ask a thousand questions, but managed to restrain himself. "What?"

"Yeah." She shrugged, "You know, sometimes I really envy Darcy."

It was certainly not what he expected her to say, but chose not to attempt to push her back on topic. "Indeed? How so?"

"I dunno. She's just…good at accepting what life dishes out. Something awful can happen or someone can say hurtful things to her, and, okay, well first she'll get mad. But, within minutes she's okay with it, looking for why it needed to happen, placing it in the grand scheme of her life and moving on, happy and carefree again."

"Perhaps, in her, you see what you might have been had the darkness not touched you," Severus reasoned.

"Nah," Rachel said with a wry grin. "I'd be more like Leah. Darcy's like no one else. She's just so joyful, exuberant. And, okay, often devious and manipulative, but not in an evil way…as far as I know. Anyway, I don't think I've ever met anyone else who was so alive, _vibrant_. I think, maybe, in her I see what I _wish _I could be. Even before the Change, before the darkness, I was serious, studious. I had a lot of friends, I wasn't unhappy, but I was never truly excited to be alive."

Severus could certainly relate to her sentiments. When had life ever excited him? When had he ever felt grateful for his existence? Until very recently, he'd surely have said 'Never' and been quite honest.

"Pascale's a little like her, you know, but there's darkness and pain within Pascale that I hope Darcy never has to experience. And I _sincerely _hope Darcy never turns into a raging sex-addict like Pascale. I pray that Darcy's lust remains focused on _life_."

Rachel was quiet for a few moments as she stared, unseeing, at her hands. "You know, I _had _hoped she'd slow down a little after she hit thirty, but…"

"Pascale?" Severus interrupted, shocked.

"Oh, that she's thirty? I know, shock, shock. There _are _actually ways that she's matured, but I think she equates growing up with dying."

"I suppose I didn't think any of your packmates would be so much older than you."

"Oh, well, Aton's twenty-eight. He and Pascale were in a pack together for _years _before John or I showed up. Aton was alpha before…stuff happened. Stuff I'm nowhere near ready to talk about. But after, I challenged for alpha, got it, and never looked back, until very recently. And I get it, you know, why it's not _my_ pack any longer. I'm doing my 'lone wolf' thing, as Aton pointed out. I haven't even contacted our Totem spirit for guidance or anything; I'm just not thinking like an alpha any more. I didn't want to wait to be challenged, so I just ceded leadership to Aton. I only hope they still consider me to be part of the pack. And could I _get_ any more pathetic?"

Severus simply arched an eyebrow. "Rubbish. I could never be quite so fascinated by or drawn to a pathetic woman. I am not, after all, attracted to you _merely_ because of your beauty. Your logic, therefore, is flawed. I suppose I _could _grant you self-pitying, but as I've no wish to be called a hypocrite, I am unlikely to criticize."

Rachel smiled broadly and turned to envelop him in a hug, running her fingers through his hair. For the first time in many long years, Severus felt truly cared for. A _lesser_ man might have wept for joy, but he managed to restrain himself. Instead, he smiled and buried his face in Rachel's silky hair, inhaling deeply the scent of jasmine and honey. His bliss was broken when Rachel chuckled.

"Not laughing at you," she said quickly. "I was just thinking about the stories I heard about you and various warnings I received. But not once was I told that you could offer up God-like compliments that could make a girl's insides go all gooey. And I was thinking that I could correct the oversight…" Rachel snickered a bit, but got herself back in enough control to finish her thought., "but I don't think Ron would survive the shock."

And she burst out laughing.

As he pictured Mr. Weasley's likely reaction to such news, he found himself unable to hold back an evil grin. Severus' laughter soon joined Rachel's.

A/N: Yes, I'm lame. I haven't updated anything in forever. I have one more chapter to post after this, then it might be a while again, since I now have a two month old son to look after. Cutest baby ever, swear to God. And no, I'm not biased! Hehe.

Read & review please!


	12. Teen Angst BS

More than a bit nervous, Ron took a deep breath and squared his shoulders; with a determined set to his jaw, he knocked meekly on the door…and waited…

After a few moments, he realized that given the volume of the laughter coming from the room, his knock had probably gone unheard. So he knocked again, louder.

"Come in, Ron!" Darcy called.

Tentatively, Ron opened the door and took a few steps inside the room. Darcy and Hermione were both lying on their stomachs facing each other, Darcy on what was soon to be Harry's bed, and – get yourself under control, Ron, he told himself – Hermione was on his. Their faces were both flushed from laughter, and they looked relaxed and at ease with each other.

"I just wanted to let you know that Harry should be getting here soon," Ron said. Screwing up his courage, he mumbled, "An' I'm sorry for, erm…"

"Goggling at us like a big perv?" Darcy asked, barely suppressing her laughter.

Ron's eyes got wide and he blushed the color of his hair. "I didn't mean, that is I couldn't, I wasn't…"

"Chill! Breathe, okay? Just breathe. You're totally forgiven. _Everybody_ knows boys are stupid."

Ron knew he'd just been insulted, but was too grateful that they weren't set on making him suffer to say anything but, "Yeah, I s'pose we are."

"Well Hermione," Darcy said, "as fun as this has been, I should go put away all my junk." With that, she stood and strolled out of the room and into her own.

* * *

A half hour later, Darcy had nearly finished putting her stuff away when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Assuming it was Harry, she cracked the door open so she could sneak a peek before he got settled in. 

Mrs. Weasley came into view first, Harry following close behind. He looked pretty much the same as he had in the pictures Hermione had shown her that afternoon, but anger, misery, and loneliness were coming off of him in waves. She was seized by the desire to run up to him and wrap her arms around him, offering comfort and promises that everything would be okay. Rachel, she thought, had looked worn out and edgy that morning, but her sister had looked ten times better than Harry did. As he disappeared into the room across the hall, Darcy hoped his friends would know what to do.

The angry shouting that reverberated through the house minutes later suggested otherwise. The pain in Harry's voice stabbed at Darcy's heart. It wasn't quite 'the sound of ultimate suffering', but it _was _damned close. She'd heard enough about the life and times of Harry Potter that she had an inkling of what he was going through, so, for better or for worse, she decided to butt in…_after _Harry stopped shouting…

Once it died down, Darcy made her way over to Ron and Harry's room. She put her ear to the door to make sure the conversation seemed civil.

It sounded safe, at least. Ron and Hermione were telling Harry what the people in the Order were up to. Wondering if that topic would start another fight, she crossed her fingers and knocked on the door.

* * *

Harry looked up when someone knocked on the door. 

"Is it safe in there yet?" an American voice asked.

"Yeah, come on in, Darcy," Ron called. "I _did _tell you about our cousins coming to stay with us, right?"

Harry nodded slightly, but still felt pretty angry. But then the door opened…and why didn't Ron warn him that his cousin was so pretty? He glanced over at Ron, who was watching him with a satisfied smirk. Ah, so it was intentional, then.

"Darcy, this is our friend Harry," Hermione introduced.

"Yeah. Harry would probably have introduced himself, but I'm afraid he may have shouted himself hoarse," Ron interjected.

"I, erm, I'm pleased to meet you," Harry managed to choke out, after sparing a dark look Ron's way. "Sorry if you heard, the, erm…"

"Post-traumatic stress outburst? No big," Darcy cut in with a smile. "Though Paz or Aton could probably help you find more effective ways to express the grief and rage."

Well, _now _he had a lot more questions. "Who?"

"Holy crap! Doesn't anybody tell you _anything_? Wow, by all means, go right back to being pissed off."

"Dumbledore made us swear!" Hermione cried, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"So, did he tell you not to tell him or to make sure he didn't find out?"

"What difference does that make?" Hermione looked suspicious and mildly disapproving.

"The difference is that, if he told you the latter, there's no way around it – you just gotta disobey. But if he just told you not to _tell _him, you could have told someone else, someone who _wasn't _told not to tell him anything, to tell Harry whatever you thought he should know. I mean, Fred, George, Pascale even? Did they all swear not to tell him anything too? I mean, duh! It's all about obeying the _letter _of the law with adults. You can't get in trouble for doing what you weren't told not to do."

"It's not like we _wanted _to keep you in the dark, Harry," Hermione said, trying to bring him back into the conversation. "But surely Dumbledore had his reasons for not wanting you to know!" Hermione insisted, fresh tears springing to her eyes.

"Chill sweetie," Darcy said. "That _is _an interesting perspective. But here's another… Who _cares_ if he had a reason? He's like, a billion years old… What do you think _he_ remembers about being fifteen? How about this, do _you _think Harry's the kind of person who would react well to being kept out of the loop? Or, do you think he's the kind of person who'd be pissed off about it? Maybe even end up in more danger because he took matters into his own hands?"

Darcy turned toward Harry, looking him in the eye. "I don't mean to talk about you like you're not here, by the way. Just, you know, trying to make a point."

Harry hadn't even been bothered by it. Someone he didn't even know was sticking up for him to his best friends, friends that shouldn't have needed her to tell them that stuff. So he smiled at her, his first genuine smile since he'd seen Cedric die. "And I think you've made it, thanks."

Darcy just blushed and smiled back. Darcy _was_ quite pretty, Harry thought again, but she seemed so warm and friendly that she didn't make him feel uncomfortable or tongue-tied like Cho always had. Afraid to dwell on that line of thought for long, he chose to repeat his prior question. "So, who _are _these people I wasn't told about?"

Oh, Pascale, though I call her Paz, and AAAAHH!" Darcy screamed as Fred and George apparated directly in front of her.

"Pascale is someone you _need _to meet, mate," Fred stated, as though it were entirely normal to 'pop' into the middle of a conversation and then hijack it.

"Too right," George agreed. "You should've heard her shouting at Mum earlier."

"You're not wrong there, George. It was about how you're being kept out of your own business, Harry. She said that any attempts to control you or keep you in the dark would make you feel like you weren't trusted."

"Right, and then she, oh, what was it?" George paused and tapped a finger on his chin for a few moments. "Oh yes, she thought that sort of rubbish could cause you to make poor decisions."

"Like storming out of your house when people want you dead…"

"Or shouting at your friends…"

"Alienating people who care about you…"

"Oh, good one Fred."

"Right, right," Harry grumbled. "Point taken. Could we possibly talk about something else?"

"Actually, we were hoping you could all lay off the conversation for just a bit. We were trying to listen in downstairs," Fred said, holding up a long, flesh-colored string.

Ron shook his head. "You're just asking for trouble with those things. Either Mum will confiscate them, or Pascale will blow out your eardrums."

"It's worth the risk, they're having a major meeting, and I want to know what old Snape's been up to."

Interest peaked, Harry listened as Fred and George explained about the Extendable Ears, which, as Ginny reported that the kitchen door had been Imperturbed, turned out to be useless. And soon the conversation turned to Bill and Charlie, who were also in the Order, and to Percy, who appeared to be turning into a remarkably stupid, selfish prat.

And _that _led to _another_ rather unpleasant revelation. Learning that the Daily Prophet had been _regularly_ making him out to be a deluded, attention seeking twit just capped off a singularly horrible week.

But then a knock on the door halted the conversation. "Knock, knock," called another American voice.

"Come in, Rachel," Darcy called. To Harry, she added, "My older sister."

"Hey guys. You must be Harry. Hangin' in there?" asked the woman who, at first glance, Harry thought bore little resemblance to Darcy. But then she slipped an arm around Darcy's waist and they leant their heads together, and he noticed their similar face shapes, and that they had the same smile and the same eyes.

"Erm, I'm trying, thanks. It's nice to meet you," Harry replied.

"Likewise," Rachel grinned. "So, I was sent to tell you all that dinner's ready, but I'm heading out and wanted to say hey to you, Harry, and good night to my sisters." She looked around the room. "Where's Leah?"

"Oh, son of a biscuit-eater!" Darcy exclaimed, eyes wide with fear. "I was gonna look for her earlier and I forgot!"

Rachel rubbed the space between her eyes wearily. "Right, and _when _was this you were going to look for your _eleven-year-old _sister?"

Darcy studied the floor quite intently and muttered something unintelligible.

"Sorry. Didn't _quite_ catch that."

"Elevenish," she whimpered, still looking at the floor.

Harry watched, fascinated, as Rachel's knuckles turned white and her left eye began to twitch. In a calm, yet menacing tone that was eerily reminiscent of Snape just before he deducted a load of points, Rachel spoke, "Your sister's been missing, in a house containing a _hippogriff_, for nine hours and you forgot?"

Darcy's head shot up at the mention of the hippogriff. "Hippogriff?! I thought that was a joke!" she exclaimed. "You _know _that's just where she'd go!"

Then, Darcy shot out of the room like hell itself was on her tail, Rachel not far behind.

Fred and George exchanged a glance and disapparated.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione all looked at each other, shrugged, and followed at a more leisurely pace.

When they reached Buckbeak's room, Darcy and Rachel were both standing in the doorway, smiling wistfully. Curious, Harry and Hermione crowded into the doorway, and Ron stood just behind them, peering over Hermione's head.

Harry barely noticed Hermione's sharp intake of breath as Ron brushed against her, but Darcy caught it. She looked past Harry, winked at Hermione, and whispered to them all. "Fred went to grab my camera. Keep quiet; I don't want them to wake up before I get photographic evidence."

Harry looked into the room, trying to ignore the way Darcy's bare leg was rubbing against him. A little girl, obviously Leah, was sleeping curled up into Buckbeak's side, just where horse melted into eagle, her face buried in feathers. Buckbeak's head was turned backward to wrap protectively around her tiny body.

With a pop, Fred arrived with a camera. Harry was quite distracted by the way Darcy's body brushed against his side as she turned to grab the camera, and barely caught her thanks to Fred…something about how the photo would make excellent blackmail material in a few years.

Fred just nodded sagely, but when she took a few steps into the room to snap a picture, Fred leant toward Harry and whispered, "I think I've a new favorite cousin."

Harry grinned, but wondered if Fred had even _had _a favorite cousin before.

After a few moments, Fred added, "You'd best not hurt her, mate. I don't think I like your chances if you do."

Startled, Harry gradually shifted his gaze, but Fred just winked at him and looked back into Buckbeak's room. Shaken and a bit overwhelmed, Harry did the same.

The click of the camera woke Buckbeak, and when he raised his head, Darcy immediately bowed, hands behind her back, shaking the camera toward Fred, who whispered, "Accio camera."

Buckbeak stared, uncertainly, at Darcy for over ten seconds, but bowed his head at last. The movement woke Leah, and Harry released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Leah felt around the floor, eventually coming up with a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Knowing how disconcerting it could be to wake up surrounded, Harry took a few steps back from the doorway, motioning for Hermione and Ron to do the same.

"Finally notice I was gone?" Leah asked in a soft, yet derisive tone.

"No," Darcy said indignantly. Unfortunately, she ruined it by adding, "I actually just remembered that I'd forgotten to go looking for you."

"Oh, I _beg _your pardon," Leah replied sarcastically. "That's _so _much better."

"Oh, bite me," Darcy huffed.

"Careful, Buckbeak might think you were talking to him."

"Pfft."

"Alright," Rachel interjected. "Come on, you two, it's time for dinner. I'm taking off though, Leah, and I wanted to say good night. And I'll try to get back here at least once before school starts. Maybe we can all go sight-seeing or something. But, I need to talk to Darcy alone, so go on ahead with the others. They're waiting outside."

Once everyone was out of earshot, Darcy began to plead. "I'm so, _so_ sorry. I can't believe I forgot, but she _is _okay, and…"

"Stop." Rachel held up a hand to accentuate her demand. "I know. I was worried, but I'm not mad at you. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about…"

* * *

As they made their way downstairs, Ron groused that the side trip had probably cost them any chance they'd had to overhear anything as the Order left. Harry agreed, but was glad _he_ hadn't been the one to complain about it, especially when he heard a small voice behind him mutter, "whiner." He turned his head to glance at Leah, who was following closely behind him, her head buried in a huge tome. On closer inspection, he realized it was an advanced Potions Theory text. He was about to ask her about it when a familiar voice wafted up to them and everyone froze in their tracks. 

"I assure you, madam, that is _not _my intention," Snape said smoothly.

Almost as one, they crept to the edge of the staircase and peeked down to see Snape's greasy, wait, Harry amended mentally, _not _greasy, but shorter, and _styled _hair?! If not for the highly recognizable voice and gargantuan schnoz, Harry thought he might not have recognized the old git. At any rate, he was standing across from a tall, thin woman, and he nodded absently when Ron whispered, "Pascale," in his ear.

"Good," Pascale replied. "'Cause if you hurt her, I will rip off your arms and beat you to death with them." She sounded deadly serious.

"Understood," Snape calmly replied.

"Cool, then. Enjoy the rest of your summer, Sev, my man." With that, she clapped Snape on the back hard enough that he winced.

Recovering quickly, he inclined his head slightly, said, "And you as well," and strode away.

Harry shook his head a bit, wondering what that had been about and why Snape had been…polite. He glanced over at Hermione, who appeared to be thinking, probably about the same thing. Ron, as usual, was making rude comments about Snape, and Harry was surprised to catch little Leah glaring daggers at Ron over the top of her book. Before he could follow that train of thought, a mischievous voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"It's really quite rude to eavesdrop, you know. Not to mention _careless _to be so obvious about it. You get off with a warning this time, buddy boy, 'cause you're new here," Pascale said, wagging a finger in Harry's direction. "Next time, well, ask Fred and George about the consequences of sloppy surveillance. But I must say that I am disappointed. I expected better from such noted troublemakers."

"Sorry, Pascale. We'll be stealthy next time," Ron grinned.

"All I ask," she replied breezily. "Now get your dumb butts down to dinner, I'm starvin'. Oh, and remember to make all the noise you want in the hallway." Pascale skipped down the steps, whistling something Harry found vaguely familiar as she went.

"That was…different," Harry commented. "What did she mean about making noise in the hall?"

"Oh," Ron chuckled as they started walking again. "There was this bloody awful portrait in the hall, and she'd scream and curse at everyone to get out of her house any time someone made noise near her portrait. She got worse after Kreacher kicked it."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded.

"Aw, come on, Hermione. He was a freaky, nasty little git, and not even you could be sorry he's dead. Cor, Harry, don't look like that! Kreacher was just a creepy old nutter of a House Elf. But, you know Hermione – she's still on about _spew_."

The ensuing argument lasted until they reached the kitchen, with only a small break to indicate to Harry where the portrait had been until that afternoon, when they'd finally gotten rid of it. They promised to tell him all about it later, and went right back to arguing.

Dinner actually started off well, with Sirius surprising him with a quick hug, telling Harry that this was _his_ house. Darcy showed up only a few minutes after they did, looking pensive, but then Pascale and Sirius, who were _dating_, began to tell stories of pranks past and trading off-color jokes under their breath so Mrs. Weasley couldn't hear.

Harry didn't understand about half of them, but felt some measure of relief that Hermione looked even more puzzled than he felt. He experienced a moment's shock that Ron appeared to understand them all, but figured that it had something to do with his having five older brothers. But he was truly shocked when, after a particularly long, confusing joke, Darcy whispered, "Man, Paz, that's just nasty. Are you trying to disturb us into vows of celibacy?"

"What? _Hell_ no. Just, mmm…" Pascale paused and scrutinized Harry and Ron for a moment. "Try to keep it in your pants, well, your hands anyway, for at least another year or two. I feel compelled, as an adult, to remind you that you're too young."

Harry was mortified. He felt the blush spread across his face, and glanced at Ron to see how _he_ was faring. To his surprise, Ron was grinning like a madman, and actually went so far as to sketch a salute and stage-whisper, "Yes, ma'am." Hermione, who was on Ron's left, blushed furiously, and her eyes were fixed on the food she kept pushing around her plate.

Ron glanced sideways at Harry. "Best get used to it mate, Pascale's _right _pervy."

Pascale snorted, then shrugged. "Hey, someone's gotta be in Molly's House of Repression. Way she acts, I'll bet she thinks all her boys are innocent little vir…"

Harry was grateful for the loud guffaws from Mundungus Fletcher's end of the table that cut off Pascale's increasingly disturbing comments. On the downside, though, it kicked off the first major argument of the evening. It seemed that while Mrs. Weasley understood the Order's need for someone with Mundungus' particular skills and various contacts, she did not like it when he stayed for dinner.

Pascale's off-hand comment, that 'Molly's just worried that her babies will be corrupted,' was just a touch too loud, and it sparked a second argument, between Mrs. Weasley, Pascale, and Sirius, but Pascale ended it quickly with a cryptic comment about how they probably shouldn't discuss teenagers again.

When Fred and George both pretended to cough to cover their laughter, Harry assumed it had something to do with the earlier argument they'd been on about.

What struck Harry the most though was how happy and carefree his godfather seemed. Before, Harry had only seen Sirius really happy in various pictures with his fellow Marauders, so it was wonderful to see the contented smile on Sirius' face. In a weird way, it gave Harry hope for his own future.

But he also noticed that Darcy had remained quietly introspective, and had barely touched her food. As she'd struck him as a, well, rather vivacious person, Harry figured that, for Darcy to be so quiet, her sister must really have let her have it.

When he'd finished his dessert, Sirius brought up the subject of Voldemort, and his surprise that Harry hadn't already begun to ask questions.

Mrs. Weasley looked so upset by Sirius' desire to fill him in, Harry half-expected her head to spin completely around and explode. As it was, her face and clenched hands turned colors.

And though she demanded the 'children' all be kept out of the matter, it didn't take long before he, Fred, George, Ron and Hermione all received permission to stay. Ginny was furious about getting kicked out, and she did _not _go quietly, but Leah and Darcy left without a fuss. Darcy actually said something about having no desire to get caught up in their political BS anyway.

* * *

Harry's head was full as Mrs. Weasley marched them to their rooms. He was startled out of his reverie when Mrs. Weasley knocked on the door across the hall from his and Ron's room, or more accurately, when Darcy opened said door. The thought that she was just across the hall was not an unpleasant one, but it did make him feel strangely nervous. 

"What's up?"

"I just wanted to tell you it's time for lights out, so…" Mrs. Weasley began.

"Are you kidding?" Darcy interrupted. "One, it's unhealthy to go to bed so soon after eating, two, it's only nine-thirty, and three, the whole point of summer is that there's no bedtime. Back home, during the summer, my freakin' _curfew_ isn't even until midnight for God's sake!"

Darcy paused and exhaled loudly. Harry could hardly believe the way she'd spoken to Mrs. Weasley, and hoped she wouldn't be punished too severely.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you," Darcy apologized after a few moments. Then, narrowing her eyes, she bit out, "How very childish of me." With that, she closed the door in their faces.

Given the fury in Mrs. Weasley's eyes, Harry decided the wisest course of action was to get out of the line of fire. He turned and scrambled into his room, Ron about half a step behind him, barely tossing a "G'night, Mum," over his shoulder as he ran.

Shutting the door and practically deflating against it, Ron half-whimpered, half-laughed. "Could you believe that? Was it just me, or did Darcy basically just tell Mum that she was being childish tonight?"

Harry, who'd collapsed on his bed, raised his head. "Sounded like it me too, yeah."

Ron just shook his head, a shell-shocked look on his face. "Whoa."


	13. Garou

Harry lay quietly in bed, periodically checking his watch. Nearly half an hour had passed since he and Ron had run for the safety of their room. Twenty-six minutes had passed since Harry had noticed a slip of paper, his name written upon it in purple lettering, on his bedside table.

"Why d'you suppose Darcy called a meeting here tonight?" Ron whispered.

Harry shrugged, then realized the futility of that action and rolled his eyes at himself. "I have no idea. How much trouble do you suppose she's in?"

"_Eurgh_, quite a bit, no doubt. I wouldn't mind asking her when she gets here; is it nearly ten o'clock?"

"Already is, according to my watch. Do you think your mum will catch us?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"Well, _now _I do," replied Ron, sounding a bit scared.

Harry was about to respond when he heard the doorknob turning. In case it was Mrs. Weasley checking up on them, he shut his eyes and tried to breathe slowly and evenly. A few seconds later, the door shut again, and Harry sighed in relief

"That was pretty good fake sleeping," a mischievous voice whispered into his ear soon afterward.

Harry sat up quickly, startled that Darcy had crept so close without making a sound.

"Sorry," Darcy offered, sounding anything but sorry. "My shoes are charmed to absorb all sound in their immediate area, so I walk entirely noise-free, unless I bump into something or fall."

"That's brilliant," Ron said, impressed. "Hey Harry, how much easier would shoes like _that_ make sneaking about in the ol' Invisibility Cloak?"

Harry was about to reply when two popping sounds signaled the arrival of Fred and George. And moments later, Hermione and Ginny crept into the room.

"Can somebody get a light on?" Darcy asked.

"Won't we get caught?" Hermione whispered as Harry lit a candle on his bedside table. "What is this all about?"

Darcy simply shook her head and reached into the rucksack she was toting, pulling out a ball. It was about the size of a bludger, but was silver and looked like it was made of rubber. She tossed it into the air once, then chucked it at the door.

Upon a soundless impact, the ball flattened and expanded, covering both the door and the frame. "One adult-proof room, check," Darcy said, no longer lowering her voice.

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"It's an Orb of Secrecy. With that in place, no sound or light can leave the confines of this room. Plus, anyone who intends to come in will feel a wholly inexplicable desire to pass on by. One hundred and one uses, I tell you," Darcy stated proudly.

"Sounds quite useful," Fred said, impressed. "Where do you get those?"

Darcy smiled. "I started working on them last summer, with Leah's help. We only perfected the design last month, but we've already patented it and sold about twenty of them. But, as I don't think Mom would approve of the direction I'm going with the product line, I've yet to tell her."

"Oh, you were dead right, Fred," George stated, with no small amount of awe. "Favorite cousin, indeed."

"The possibilities are endless," Fred mused, delight dancing in his eyes. "Just…endless."

"Darcy," Hermione ventured. "What _is _going on?"

But Ron spoke up before Darcy could reply. "Before we get into that, how much trouble are you in? And where's Leah?"

"Huh? Oh, Leah was tired; I think she's asleep already. And I'm not really sure how much trouble I'm in. I'm supposed to clean all the lavatories the 'muggle way', but Aunt Molly said it like it's a huge tragedy or something. I don't really get it. Anyway, I apologized and promised not to be disrespectful again, but also explained that my family has a very strict 'no raised voices' rule due to the fact that communication stops once shouting starts."

Ron looked horrified. "Yuck! You have to clean all of them? This is a pretty big house, there are an awful lot of lavatories."

Darcy brushed aside Ron's concerns with a wave of her hand. "Oh please, just give me some Clorox or whatever, a scouring pad, and a toilet brush. It won't take me that long. Anyway, that's not what I called this meeting for. We should get down to business."

Harry barely suppressed a gasp when Darcy sat on his bed…right next to him, but was unable to stop the blush from spreading across his face. Fred grinned and winked, but Darcy didn't notice, as she had leaned down to rummage through her rucksack.

She sat back up with a spiral notebook and heaved a sigh. "Okay, you all know that Rachel and I talked earlier tonight. What you don't know is that I wasn't actually in any trouble. She gave me this notebook and very specific instructions. There are some things she believes you all have a right to know."

Ron gasped, "You don't mean…?"

"I do mean," Darcy replied. "She doesn't think it's fair for you guys to have to keep it to yourselves."

To Harry and Hermione, she added, "Rachel said that she knew you two would find out eventually, but that you deserve to be trusted with the truth up front."

"I knew it, Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed. "You _have_ been keeping secrets from me!"

"Now hold on a second, Hermione," Darcy ordered. "This really _is _an important secret, the kind you absolutely can _not_ repeat to anyone who isn't already in the know. I think you'll understand why Ron didn't share."

"So what are _we _here for?" George asked.

"Yeah, we're already 'in the know', as it were," Fred added.

"Oh, don't worry, boys, there will _be _new information. Anyway, the purpose of the meeting this afternoon - that was before you got here, Harry - was apparently to decide whether or not the Order should be told about this, or if the truth should remain restricted to those who know already. Rachel said they decided to tell the Order, but that Professor D…I mean Dumbledore," she elaborated when she received several blank stares, "told everyone not to, and I quote, 'breathe a word of this to Mr. Potter or Miss Granger.' So Rachel told _me _to tell you instead."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, "So, that concept you spoke of before, about following the _letter_ but not the _intent_ of the law, runs through your whole family then, does it?"

But Harry was thinking that he liked Darcy's family very much, and was feeling more disappointed with Dumbledore by the minute. But he was getting frustrated by the vagueness of the conversation. "So, will you be telling us any time soon?"

"What, you mean you're already bored with the bit where I hint and generalize and basically not tell you a damn thing?" Darcy teased. "So impatient." She winked at him and ruffled a hand through his hair.

At her touch, Harry's scalp felt strangely tingly, and he felt himself blushing once more.

Darcy just grinned cheekily, opened up the notebook, sat back against the headboard, and then stared intently at everyone in turn. "You all have to understand just one more thing before I really get started. I am going to tell you _way_ more than the Order was told tonight. Rachel is putting an awful lot of faith in your abilities to keep secrets. You can discuss this stuff amongst yourselves; you can talk to me or Leah, to Rachel, Pascale, Aton or John, but you can't talk to anyone else about this under any circumstances under pain of, well, getting your asses thoroughly kicked, then Obliviated. Are we clear?"

After everyone responded in the affirmative, Darcy drew a deep breath and began to tell quite a fantastic, often unbelievable, story…

* * *

Harry lay in bed, exhausted, but unable to sleep. After dinner, he mused, he'd thought his head was full. It may have been only three or so hours earlier, but it seemed almost a lifetime away. He'd not felt so completely overwhelmed since the day Hagrid told him that he was a wizard. After all, that day he'd learned about a secret society existing just outside of common man's reality, but even those events hadn't really tipped his world view on its ear. Rather, on the whole, the world stayed the same; the planet kept spinning, the sun rose and set. For a moment, he lost himself in the memory of those early days of wonder, when it was amazing that magic was real. He smiled to himself, remembering his early days at Hogwarts, back when he'd been quite certain that nothing in the world could be more frightening than his Potions professor.

How long had it been, Harry wondered, since he'd been afraid of Snape. When he thought about it, he realized that he hadn't feared the man since the end of his first year at Hogwarts. He still hated Snape quite a bit, but compared with Voldemort or the dementors, Snape was about as scary as a fluffy little kitten.

Harry's mind drifted back to Darcy's tale – on the upside, Voldemort seemed considerably less terrifying than he had mere hours earlier. The downside, of course, was that a slew of new and nightmarish creatures, from malevolent spirits to mutated, toxic-waste spewing creatures that once were human, had taken his place. It seemed to him that, over the course of a few short hours, the entire fabric of reality had rippled.

'In the beginning,' Darcy had said, 'There was the Triat, the most powerful forces in all of Gaia. Gaia, for simplicity's sake, is the spirit of this world, you know, uh, all-encompassing Earth-mother sorta deal Anyway, the Triat is comprised of the Wyld, the kaleidoscopic, chaotic force of creation, the Weaver, the force of perfect order, and the Wyrm, the balancer. The Wyld would randomly create raw, shapeless creation, the Weaver would then weave it into a pattern, and if either force became dominant, the Wyrm would consume the excess, restoring balance. But then something happened. No one really knows what went wrong, but the Weaver sought to bind all of creation in her pattern web. When the Wyrm attempted to restore the balance, it was caught in the web and partially crystallized. The Wyrm went mad from the agonizing pain and, instead of balance, became the spirit of corruption; instead of consuming excess creation to maintain balance, became hell bent on destroying _all_ of Gaia.'

She told them that, over the millennia, many theories abounded about what exactly the Weaver did that crossed the line, that doomed creation, but the general consensus was that the Weaver had created humans. It was not particularly heartening, but considering the state of the planet, sadly not so difficult to see the point.

She went on to describe how, afraid for all of creation, Gaia created the Garou, warriors of both spirit and flesh, to protect Her from the Wyrm. Imbued with the power of spirits, armed with tooth, claw, and a powerful, bestial Rage, and tempered with human thought and imagination, they represented the hope that perhaps all could one day come back into balance.

That was what Rachel and the others really were. Not human, really – John, in fact, had actually been born a _wolf_. Werewolves, no _Garou_, Harry reminded himself. They were so very different from Lupin, and yet there was a connection…

"You awake, Harry?" Ron mumbled.

Harry sighed loudly. "Yeah. Can't sleep either?"

"You think it's really true?" Ron blurted. "That dark wizards were actually responsible for creating werewolves? D'you think Professor Lupin knows that?"

Harry was silent for a moment; he'd been wondering the same thing himself. "I don't know, but I believe it could have happened that way. From what Darcy said, the Garou have a lot of power. And that's really what dark wizards are out to get, right? Probably didn't expect it to backfire on them the way it did, though. What I wonder is if Professor Lupin's been told that he could be cured if he was taken to that one realm…Air-something, wasn't it?"

"Erebus," Ron replied. "Didn't sound pleasant, though. You get dumped into a magic river where you endure blinding torment, that's _actual_ torture, that is, while at the same time you confront your weaknesses and fears in a waking nightmare, until your spirit's _cleansed_ and the river finally spits you out… Oh, and the bit where there's really no way of telling how long a person could be stuck there, that wasn't particularly reassuring either. And oh-_ho_, best of all, since he's not Garou, the guardians of the realm might just kill him rather than allow him entry. I think I'd rather just be a werewolf, thank you very much."

"A normal life, though," Harry slurred, finally drifting off toward sleep, "might be worth any price."


End file.
